


The Rituals of the Dalish

by Hezjena2023



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Angst, Anything out of the ordinary will have chapter specific warnings, Background Relationships, Canon Death, Canon Temporary Character Death, Canon-Typical Violence, Elvhen Pantheon, Elvhen foci, Eventual spoilers for Trespasser - kinda, Exploring Dalish Religion, F/M, Feedback and Constructive Criticism Welcome, Fluff, Heavy Drinking, It Gets Worse, It’s a long one!, Mistakes are my own, Not Beta Read, Original Character Death(s), Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Pro-Elves, Rating May Change, Slow Burn, Swearing, Swearing in English and Elvish, Time Skips, Time Travel, Unreliable Narrator, Work In Progress, too many subplots which will all get resolved eventually
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-18
Updated: 2019-09-21
Packaged: 2019-09-22 08:28:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 186
Words: 241,574
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17056334
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hezjena2023/pseuds/Hezjena2023
Summary: When Lavellan's revivalist Dalish religion comes into contact with the Inquisition, her faith will be tested. It isn't easy being faithful to your gods and being the Herald of Andraste. And even more difficult when the gods do insist on testing her so.Following the rough guideline of canon DAI, with some major deviations.With a heavy serving of Solavellan hell, because why not!





	1. Markers and Misconceptions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lavellan has had one hell of a day, but she's looking for some closure after the explosion which caused the breach. So I wrote her a sort of funeral ritual, inspired by Dalish funeral customs. She asks Solas to tag along, and discovers some of her first impressions were completely wrong.

I stood outside his door. My hand hovered in a fist, ready to knock. I was tired, it had been the longest day of my life. I’d woken up in a cold stone prison, fought more demons that I dared to think about and still had a throbbing pain radiating from my left arm the whole way up my arm. Cassandra had told me to get some rest, but I had obligations, that I suspected she wouldn’t understand. _I needed to build a marker, it was the least I could do_. I wouldn’t be able to sleep until it was done. I had spent the dusk light searching for appropriate stones down by the lakeshore, smooth pebbles that could be stacked on top of each other. I knew I was being watched. I rubbed my eyes, trying to stay awake. I was tired. I took a deep breath and knocked on the door.

I stood there for a long moment. I had seen the candlelit from his window, I had considered just walking past. I was unsure what to make of this strange mage. When I first saw him, I had though he was human as he was a head taller than me and barefaced. But the ears had given him away. I was about to leave when he opened the door, ‘yes?’

I kept to Trade, unsure if he could speak any Elvish. ‘Solas. Sorry it is so late, I saw the candle,’ I gestured to the window, ‘I already asked Minaeve, she turned me down. And you’re the only other elf I’ve seen here. So, I thought I should at least offer’ I could feel myself rambling but was unable to stop. ‘It’s for a marker’. I held up the bag of pebbles apologetically.

He turned his head slightly and raised an eyebrow. And waited for me to continue.

I blushed, ‘For the ones who got caught in the explosion. Do you want to tag along? I could use a mage... But don’t come if you don’t want to.’ I suddenly had a horrible thought, ‘do you not make markers in cities?’

‘I am not from an alienage.’ He replied curtly.

It was then my turn to look at him curiously but I decided now was probably not the time to ask. ‘I’m sorry… never mind, forget I asked’. I felt my shoulders drop and I turned away. Well that didn’t go well at all.

‘Wait, I will join you’. He said from behind me, pulling on a cloak. ‘I have seen markers being made, in the fade. It would be interesting to see one done properly.’ The sides of his mouth curled into a smirk.  

I blushed again, feeling foolish, ‘I don’t know the right words’. I confessed.

‘Then why are you attempting this?’ His voice turned cold.

I looked at the green tear in the sky, what had Cassandra called it? _The Breach_. So many people gone in a second. ‘I don’t want anyone to be lost,’ I said softly, I glanced across and he was looking at me like I’d gone quiet mad. Maybe I had, it had been so long since I’d sleep. But I had been surrounded by markers my whole life. My people built them when people passed unnecessarily into the Fade, so they would remember us and so we could remember them.

I saw his expression soften, and he nodded.

I pointed to a patch of grass on the right of the imposing building. ‘I thought I would set it up by the side of the chantry, they already did a service, but I was, you know,’ I awkwardly tapped my wrists together, _imprisoned._ I left the word unspoken, hanging in the air.

We approached the spot, and I knelt. I felt his presence behind me, and I forced myself to focus. I cleared the snow out of the way with my hands, my hands stung with the cold and protested the action. I pulled the bag of pebbles out and sorted them into a rough order. Then I stacked them carefully, until they formed a rough triangular shape. Then a long piece, to form the arms. With some difficulty I managed to add the head-stone, it threatened to fall twice before I balanced it correctly. I moved back slowly, worried it might all fall, but also proud of my handiwork. I had a single pebble left, which I placed in front to form an offering plate.

‘Hellana, will you step back?’ I looked back and flushed with guilt, suddenly remembering he was there. He must be frozen. But I did as asked and stood carefully, not wanting to so much as touch the marker. He muttered a word that I didn’t catch, and the marker glowed with a pale blue light. And I felt my eyes widen in surprise. I had seen Keeper Deshanna do the same thing many times, I knew the pebbles had fused together. I wanted to ask how he knew that, or where he could have learnt that, but I didn’t.

Instead, I knelt again before the marker. I placed my palms on my face, fingertips touching my _vallaslin._ It took me a little while to focus, I was conscious of his presence and I felt his scrutinising gaze on my back. I closed my eyes, pushing everything else away, seeing only the marker in my mind’s eye. Using words, I’d spent the evening constructing, I spoke;

‘May you walk the path with certainty, may ravens scatter before your feet, may you remember your names, may you leave this realm in peace’.

When I opened my eyes, a sprawling, beautiful mural of a tree was spreading across the grey stone of the chantry wall. I looked back at Solas and could only watch in awe as he manipulated paint from nothing. He had his staff in hand and was lightly guiding it, adding leaves in greens and browns. He was moving his mouth in a silence spell. The man was full of surprises. I watched as the canopy was completed, then he turned to me and offered his hands. I took them, and he helped me stand. He was so warm, and I shivered, he pulled away. ‘You should get you back before you freeze,’ and he started to leave.

I reached out for his hand, turning him back round to face me. ‘ _Ma serannas_ , um, thank you’.

He looked stricken and pulled again from my grasp, he nodded curtly, and he was gone, without looking back.  

I stood, staring after him for a long time, unable to wipe the smile off my face. Every time I met him I had more questions than answers. And his actions were constantly at odds with his words. I shook my head, trying to clear it and retreated to my temporary lodging. I all but collapsed on my bed roll, asleep as soon as my head touched the pillow. That night I dreamt of Solas’ tree.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Special thanks to TG1Star for helping me with spelling mistakes in this chapter! <3


	2. An Offering to Andruil

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lavellan is a Dalish Hunter, far from home, her bow is lost, and she been proclaimed as the Herald of a god she doesn't believe in. She retreats to the forest to reclaim a part of herself, but clashes with Cassandra in the process.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is setting up the relationship between Lavellan and Cassandra. Heavily influenced by how much Cassandra disapproves of my Dalish inquisitor. 
> 
> Translations at the end.

I knew that the explosion had destroyed everything in the area of the Temple of Sacred Ashes, only ruins and, well, ashes remained. I had seen the devastation for myself. And yet, I still approached Cassandra with all that was left of my hope wrapped up in a tight bundle under my ribs, ‘was there any chance a bow was brought back with me?’

‘I am sorry, Herald,’ I flinched slightly at the title, she noticed and stiffened, ‘you were the only thing to come back’. The giant eye on her chest plate stared unblinkingly into my soul. Cassandra seemed the kind of the two, even with her scarred face and dragon-like rage. Behind my eyelids, the symbol burned brightly, and I felt the Great Huntress, Andruil's eye was upon me. ‘Was it valuable?’

I sighed, how could I explain what the bow had meant to me. ‘It was given to me by my clan’, I said tactfully.

She nodded, ‘You could ask Threnn for another.’

I thanked her and left, _I could not just ask Threnn for another one,_ I brooded silently as I left. That bow was sentimental, special in a way that could not be replaced. Keeper Deshanna had presented it to me when I had taken my _vallaslin,_ the day I had rejoined my clan as an adult and joined the Hunters. The pale pink lines of her bow-shaped  _vallaslin_ had pulled taut with pride. And in the evening, I was initiated into the Hunters, and would talk the path of the  _Vir Tanadhal_. I had loved that bow and couldn't quite believe it was missing. It had been dedicated, of course, to Andruil and had become an extension of my arm. I had cared for it for years and replaced parts when they were damaged. I spent a summer trading with the shem to buy a fire rune. I loved the crack it made as it set my arrows on fire. And it was gone, gone in a puff of green smoke. _I would have to make a new one_.

I walked through the double door gates, of Haven, paused to collect a stem of elfroot, and walked into the forested area. It took me half of the morning to find a suitable branch that was sturdy enough to become a bow. I took the staff and placed down the elfroot stem as an offering to the forest. I then made my way back to Haven. I stopped outside the wall, and approached the blacksmith, Harritt. The imposing man with an impressive moustache. He saw me coming and bowed slightly ‘Do you mind if I work here?’ I asked him.

He gave me another awkward half salute, ‘Of course, Herald’.

‘I am…’ _not the herald, ‘_ grateful’. I settled myself down and began the slow process of stripping the bark off the stick and forming it into a bow.

 

It was early afternoon by the time the new bow was completed. It was nothing on my old one, but it would have to do. I stretched, my fingers were raw, and my muscles were tight. I thanked Harritt for the use of his workshop. There was still enough time to dedicate the bow today, I looked around and realised I would have to do so out of sight. And then the idea came to me.

I crept away back into the forest until the town was out of sight. I continued until the forest grew thick, but for the snow on the ground I could have been back home. I closed my eyes, imagining my clan were just over the ridge, if I looked hard enough maybe I would see the red sails of our _aravel_  peaking above the trees. I opened my eyes and realised I was stood between three trees. I smiled at the sky, this was exactly what I was looking for. I slipped out the small dagger I kept in my boot, one that had miraculously survived when my bow had been destroyed, and etched a small symbol into each of the trees. When I was finished I glanced down at the dagger, odd, Cassandra had said nothing had survived by me. 

I pushed the thought from my mind and I sat back against one of the trees and set the bow down in front of me. As I did so, my woven bracelet fell out of my sleeve. I touched it and smiled sadly. It had been woven for me the night I left for the Temple of the Sacred Ashes. Keeper Deshanna had needed one of the Hunters to go but allowed us to call our own election. We had each cut a length of thread and mine was the shortest. While I had been briefed on the mission, my friends had woven the remaining threads together for me. It was an old tradition, I would keep them close and could draw from their strength, their luck and their power. No matter how far I travelled, the clan would come with me and when my mission was over I would return to them. I shivered suddenly and became aware of how much the cold had crept into my skin.

‘Great Andruil, I call you to this place.’ I lifted the bow reverently in my hands, bowing my body and recited the hunter’s prayer. ‘ _Grant your eye may not fall upon us, Spare us in the moment we become your prey.’_

I heard the crackle of footprints of footprints in the snow but didn’t look across. It was probably a deer, though for a split second, I half expected it to be Andruil herself.

‘Maker’s mercy, what are you doing?’

I found the bow in my hands aimed at the intruder, but with no arrow, it was a futile gesture. I saw the great eye on her chest. ‘Cassandra’. My voice was harsher than I had intended. ‘I am making a new bow’.

‘In the middle of the forest.’ She said coldly, the question was not present.

I looked around at the trees, why did the Seeker have to be here? ‘I needed to… dedicate it’. I said truthfully. ‘May I finish?’

Her mouth twisted in disdain, ‘alone, with no weapon?’ She huffed, ‘There are bears here and worse...’

I looked away from her and tried to ground myself again, but it was pointless as my heart was going too fast. I glanced over again and the bright white eye on shining purple armour. I touched my fingertips to the tops of my cheeks, brushing the _vallaslin_ there. _Mother Mythal, please do not test me, not now, not here_. I looked at Cassandra and tried to smile pleasantly. ‘If you would like, you can stay while I finish up’.

Cassandra didn’t look happy, but silently lent up against a nearby tree.

‘Great Andruil,’ I repeated, ‘Let my weapon serve you, as I walk along the _Vir Tanadhal,_ ’ I raised the bow above my head, then drew pointed at the sky ‘let me be your weapon,’ and I let the bow go, which made a satisfactory twang. I smiled at the bow and felt its weight in my hands. It was a much shorter dedication that I would have liked, but I felt something like complete again.

I stood and brushed the snow of my leggings and slung my bow on my shoulder.

‘Do you even believe in the maker?’ Cassandra demanded suddenly.   

I stared at her, _of course not_ , ‘I believe in the elven gods’ I said slowly, carefully as one might speak to a child.

‘And yet, the Maker sent you to us in our darkest hour.’ I felt a sting of guilt at her words and despite our opposing beliefs, I recognised her pain, she was simply the Right Hand of the Divine, questioning her faith.

But I didn’t have the heart to respond, instead I toyed nervously with the bracelet on my wrist. Then I dug my fingers into my wrist to steady myself, I couldn't react, couldn’t comfort her. There was a single good reason why the Dalish kept away from the Chantry, Shartan. I could see my future laid out before me, they would raise me up on a pyre of praise and if I failed them, and they would burn me. 

She laughed then, a sad, bitter laugh.  ‘One day, they may write about me as a traitor, a madwoman, a fool. And they may be right.’

‘It’s too late to turn back.’ I said softly. I glanced once more at the big white eye painted on her chest, and I thought of Andruil's gaze, I couldn't tell if I was her protected or prey.

We walked together back to Haven in silence and she left me at the gates. I let go of my wrist, leaving indentations in my skin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Vallaslin - blood writing. Dalish religious tattoos.  
> Vir Tanadhal - way of the three tress. The teaching of Andruil, taught to Hunters in a Dalish clan.  
> aravel - a sailed caravan pulled by halla.


	3. Uneasy alliance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The gang’s first trip to the Hinterlands. A bloody battle and a lakeside conversation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [I rewrote this chapter on 22/12/2018, so apologises to anyone who read it before that and is confused. After the posting the chapter, I really felt like Solas was ooc. If you really liked it, I have plans to reuse the conversation when they are further in their relationship. Hopefully this is better! -Hezjena xx]

Cassandra, Varric, Solas and I arrived in the Hinterlands in the early morning, coming to an Inquisition held camp. From there we had heard a fight taking place at the bottom of the cliff. Scout Harding had warned us that the templars and rebel mages were hacking at each other in the middle of a village. Cassandra led the way and soon enough we were slap bang in the middle of the fighting, being attacked by both sides. Seeing Cassandra in battle made me grateful that we were, at least nominally, on the same side. She was fierce, and dove right into the centre of the combat, hacking and slashing. Varric, Solas and I had the sense to keep back. The sound of Varric’s great crossbow echoed back and forth across the nearby hills and I suspected that I would hear that sound ringing in my ears all day. As the sun drew to the highest point of the sky, we found ourselves alone, bloodstained but alive.

‘You fight hard, Seeker’, I heard Solas say to Cassandra. And I felt a pang of jealousy stab at me. I pushed the feeling aside and without waiting for her to reply, I stalked off to see if I could salvage any arrows from the battlefield.

* * *

We stopped for lunch by a lake, and the inquisition set up a camp for us. It was a little alarming to see the efficiency with which they worked. It felt like one moment we were just by a patch of grass and a couple hundred heartbeats later there was a camp. I unpacked my belongings into the small tent which was reserved for me. I checked my bow, which was holding up well, but my quiver was sadly short of arrows. I sighed, there never enough arrows. I took some from my reserve supply and made a mental note to ask our requisition office to try to source more. I shouldered my bow and exited the tent.

I made my way up the steep hill to the lake side, I crouched by the bank and washed my hands in the cool waters. Clean, I had almost forgotten what it felt like to be clean. I scoped up a handful of water and splashed my face.

‘This is Lake Luthias,’ Solas’ smooth voice said behind me, ‘they say there is a spirit of valour that lives in the lake’.

I stood, wiping my hands on my trousers, ‘A spirit of valour?’ I asked when I couldn’t picture it.

‘Such fables are common in places of beauty like this’. He was studying the view intensely. The mountains framed the edge of the lake and, I had to agree, it was beautiful here.

I looked out across the lake, imagining something living under the water, it was an interesting concept. I considered for a moment, then asked, ‘Can spirits exist for so long outside the fade?’

He looked at me like he was seeing me for the first time and his face lit up. ‘You are interested in the fade?’

I laughed and gave him a challenging look ‘it depends on what you know. What can you tell me?’

It was his turn to laugh, ‘I have studied it for many years, and travelled extensively in the fade’.

I felt my eyes widen, ‘that’s impressive.’ Then something clicked, ‘is that why you’re here?’ I saw a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. I wanted to make him smile.

He nodded and glanced at my hand, it glowed faintly green as if in response. He raised an eyebrow, and looked at my forehead, his eyes tracing my _vallaslin_ ‘you are Dalish, are you not?’

I smiled, ‘proudly’.

He flinched and tried to hide the motion, but I saw and felt the smile drop off my face. ‘You should be careful, Herald,’ His tone grew cold, ‘I’ve heard about the stunt you pulled in the forest.’ He lowered his voice, till I had to stain to hear him, ‘Cassandra has been accommodating so far. But you understand my concern’.

I felt his words like a slap in the face, I turned and surveyed the hills in the distance trying to control my emotions. ‘It wasn’t a stunt’. I hissed. ‘I did what I needed to do’.

‘Of course, your patchwork Dalish interpretation…’

A blush rose on my cheeks and I could feel my heart beating loudly in my ears. I laughed nervously, this conversation was getting out of control quickly. I rubbed my eyes. ‘Patchwork interpretation?’ I repeated. He started to answer, but I cut him off, my temper flaring, ‘let me guess. You’ve read one or two books and think you can contradict me. I’m not a fool. It isn’t going to be like it was, we’ve lost more than we ever knew. We have to fill in the gaps. We have to adapt and survive.’  

‘Even if it’s wrong?’ He looked incredulous.

I sighed, and let the great loss drown me. It washed away all my anger, ‘even if it’s wrong.’ I confirmed though I knew deep in my soul that it wasn’t wrong, merely different. I breathed in, ‘now, there is a hole in the sky and speaking of survival, well, I need allies. Are you on my side or not?’

He didn’t get a chance to answer. ‘Are you two coming?’ Varric shouted. ‘Apostates aren’t going to hunt themselves… present company excluded of course!’

I laughed to myself, ‘I’m not the only one who should be careful.’ I raised my eyebrows at him, but he didn’t look impressed.


	4. Never enough arrows

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lavellan is always running out of arrows, she's having dreams about running out of arrows. So she makes some, and starts an inquisition ritual in the process.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Like seriously were do they get unlimited arrows from?

_The wolf was following me. I walked through an unfamiliar forest and the howls were getting closer. The trees bent into my way, slowing my progress. I started running, but_ _it was like running through sludge. I couldn’t move, I couldn’t cry out. I pulled out my bow, but there were no arrows in my quiver. The empty twang echoed. The wolf lunged at me, too many eyes..._

I woke panting in my bed at Haven. I sat up and looked around. I was alone. The dawn light was streaming through the window. I looked over at my pack, my quiver was empty. I washed my hands and face in a small bowl I kept on the windowsill and pulled on my clothes.

I left the little cabin and shuddered, the weather was colder today, and the wind was biting. I looked up and the sky was dark, I suspected it would rain before long. I made my way across town to talk to Threnn. She didn’t look up as I approached.

‘Threnn?’

She spun around, she didn’t look impressed. ‘Herald’.

‘Is there any chance I can get more arrows?’ I asked.

She scoffed and pointed at three boxes, ‘if you want to make them yourself, bloody shipment came in and we’ve got a box of sticks and feathers.’

I walked over to the boxes she indicated to, I held up a stick. It wasn’t terrible, the wood was straight and dry and could be easily carved into arrows. I made all my own arrows when I was with the clan and enjoyed the therapeutic task. I pulled my blade out of my boot and settled down on the ground.

‘I wasn’t serious’. Threnn said, and walked away muttering to herself. 

I just smiled at her back and got to work.

After a short while Leliana approached me, ‘you don’t have to do that’. She said.

I looked up from my work, I had carved a handful of sticks into arrow shafts. ‘I enjoy it, plus the high and mighty Herald doesn’t mind getting her hands dirty’.

She cocked her head at me and looked a little ashamed. To my surprise she settled down next to me and started trimming feathers into fletching. Her first few were very rough, but she soon improved. ‘I have not done this in many years.’ She said, by way of apology.

As her job was quicker, she started attaching the fletching onto the arrow shafts I made. She weighed the first one in her hands, it balanced well. We both smiled at each other. She set it down and began work on the next one. I noticed the eye above her breasts, it was different from Cassandra’s, this one had a sword behind the eye. I looked up and realised it was the same symbol as the ones on the Inquisition's flags that hung from the Chantry. I was about to ask her about the significance, when an agent approached her.

Leliana and the agent exchanged urgent whispers, I caught the tail end. ‘You know what must be done, make it clean. Painless if you can’.

‘Wait, you’re going to kill someone?’ I asked before I could stop myself.

Leliana gave me a dirty look. ‘He is a traitor, it is a difficult decision, but someone must do it.’

I chose my next words carefully, ‘is there no other way?’

‘Are you questioning my decisions?’

I looked at her, the dangerous and mysterious Left Hand of the Divine. I scrutinised her pale face, wondering what had made her so callous. ‘Just this one’.

‘Very well,’ she snapped, but turned back to her agent. ‘Apprehend Butler but see that he lives.’

The agent bowed and left. His eyes flicked between me and Leliana. I realised I may have massively overstepped.

‘I am sorry to have contradicted you in like that’.

Leliana nodded and stabbed at feather a little too hard, shredding it rather than cutting. She pushed it away. ‘Now is not the time to be idealistic’.

I shook my head, ‘surely, now more than every it is necessary to stick to our ideals.’

She played with the dagger in her hand, and for a split second I thought she might stab me. But the moment passed. ‘You are right’. She admitted reluctantly.

We sat for a long moment in awkward silence. I vaguely recalled that she was trained as a Bard, ‘Do you know any good stories?’ I ventured.

She turned to me with a brilliant smile, her whole face lit up ‘Many’.

* * *

By the end of the morning we had made sixty arrows between us, and word had got out around Haven that if anyone wanted to speak to either of us, they could come and make arrows with us in exchange for an ear.

‘You seem to have a knack for leadership.’ Leliana smiled at me.

I returned her smile, ‘And you have a wonderful way with words.’

Then we parted and agreed to do the same again in a week.

 

I walked down Haven’s main street, intending to test out some of the arrows at the temporary training ground just outside the gates of Haven. But, as I passed Seggrit’s stall, something caught my eye. I walked up and picked up the red battlemage cowl, I weighted it in my hands. The merchant didn’t have a mirror for me, but I bought it anyway. I put it on my head and wondered if the hood made me look as mysterious and dangerous as Leliana.

I left Haven through the heavy wood and iron doors and passed Cullen. He stopped and he bowed slightly, ‘nice hat, Herald’.

I gave him my best mock curtsy and continued to the archery range.


	5. A Trick and a Trial

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lavellan speaks to Solas and once again he surprises her. She leaves fluttered only to walk into an angry mob, live is fun being the herald!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's possibly a different(?) take on the 'you like my side benefits?' conversation.

I wandered back from the archery range. I had hit most of my targets and the new arrows had held up well, I knew I could confidently take them into battle with me. Take that bad dreams. And I smiled, Leliana and I had made a good team. I was checking the bowstring for wear, when I heard a voice.

‘Herald.’ Solas was close behind me,

‘Please don’t call me that.’ I said, cocking my head to the side to look at him.

He looked down, ‘what would you like me to call you?’

I shrugged, ‘my name?’

He coughed a little, ‘may we have a word’.

I rolled my eyes. Then nodded and indicated towards Haven. ‘Walk with me. What is on your mind?’

‘While closing the breach should be our primary concern, I hope we might discover what was used to create it. Any artefact of such power is dangerous.’

An uneasy feeling settled in my stomach, ‘Wouldn’t it have been destroyed in the explosion?’

A smile tugged at the corner of his mouth, ‘you survived, did you not?’ I looked at my hands and gently closed my fists. _Did I survive?_ ‘The artefact is unlike anything seen in this age. I will not believe it destroyed until I see the shattered fragments with my own eyes’.

I nodded. We passed Seggrit’s stall and I glanced up the steps to see Varric watching us. ‘Then we will try to recover whatever created the breach.’

‘Leliana’s people have scoured the area and found nothing.’

‘It’s a priority.’ I confirmed, then considered that it was odd, we had spent the morning together and Leliana hadn’t told me anything about searching for a mysterious object. I felt my curiosity stir, ‘tell me more about yourself Solas’.

He froze for a second, but recovered, I pretended not to notice. ‘Why?’

I glanced out over Haven’s log walls, to the forest beyond. The sky was illuminated green, it was difficult to ignore. I looked back to him and shrugged slightly, ‘you’re an apostate, and yet you risked your freedom to help the inquisition’. _To help me._

He clashed his hands behind his back, ‘not the wisest course of action when framed that way…’

I smiled, ‘I…’ I lifted my left hand slightly, ‘appreciate, what you’re doing.’ I looked at him, ‘Solas, I…’ I shrugged again, ‘guess I’m just curious about you.’

He met my eyes, ‘I am sorry. There is just so much fear in the air’. I looked down and felt ashamed of prying, of course I understood. He touched my arm lightly, ‘what would you like to know?’

‘What got you interested in the fade?’

He straighten as we walked, ‘I grew up in a village to the north, there was little there to interest a young man, particularly one gifted with magic. But as I slept the fade showed me glimpses of wonder. I had never imagined…’

As he spoke, I noticed his necklace for the first time. Was it a jawbone of some kind? How macabre? Why would anyone wear that?  I looked up and he was waiting for a reaction. Fenedhis, what was the last thing he had said, I couldn’t remember. ‘That sounds…’ I picked a word at random, ‘dangerous’.

He smiled, and I flushed with relief, though I felt a stab of guilt at tricking him. ‘Not as dangerous as the chantry would have us belief. Spirits try to tempt as much a colourful piece of fruit invites you to eat it, I learned how to control my dreams. There was much I wanted to explore’.

I enjoyed his passion, and I wanted to hear him speak more, ‘So I gather you didn’t spend your life dreaming?’ I smiled slightly, coyly, mother Mythal what was I doing?

He looked at me intently, and I felt almost naked in his presence. ‘No,’ I saw once again his eyes trace across my _vallaslin_ , ‘eventually I was unable to find new areas in the fade. You see the fade reflects the area around it. Unless I travelled, I was unable to find new places.’ What a place to travel to, I felt a sudden pity for him. He had travelled so far and was caught up in this mess. Though, I reminded myself, unlike me, Solas had volunteered. Unconsciously, I pulled my hood down to cover my forehead, and he retreated from me. ‘And the fade reflects and is limited by our imagination. To find interesting areas, you have to be interesting.’

I swallowed hard, feeling like it was a chastisement. We walked a few paces in silence, he looked at me with the same curious gaze I had now received from him many times, as if I was a puzzle he could not master. ‘In truth, I have enjoyed more of life to experience more of the fade.’

His words were silky, for a heartbeat, I knew for certain I was prey caught in a trap. I was the quarry. Then the moment passed, and I didn’t know anything for certain. ‘How so?’ I breathed.

‘You train to send an arrow to its target.’ He gestured to my bow, ‘the grace with which you move is a pleasing side benefit. You have chosen a path whose steps you do not dislike because it leads to a destination you enjoy. As have I.

I laughed, shaking my head, ‘So you're suggesting I'm graceful?’

‘No, I am declaring it. It was not a subject for debate.’

The smile dropped off my face, and my breath caught in my throat. A heartbeat later and I was just staring at him with an open mouth, feeling the blush rising in my cheeks. Once again, he surprised me. I licked my lips and managed an eloquent ‘hmm’ in a tiny voice. Oh, mother Mythal, I was making a fool of myself! I bowed my head and backed away from him. I pulled my hood down self consciously as I walked back through Haven, hidden under the hood I was grinning like a jester. I needed to sort this out, I was acting like a newly-tattooed in love for the first time.

‘Herald’. I turned annoyed and came face to face with Cassandra, and I sobered immediately.

She looked me up and down with a barely concealed panic, ‘there is a mob. Outside the chantry.’

Fenedhis. I ran alongside her, and as she said there was a mob in front of the chanty. Screaming voices, echoed around the square. Instinctively I recoiled, but Cassandra pulled me forward. Just as we got there Cullen was breaking up a fight between a templar and mage.

‘That is not my title. We are not templars any more, we are all the inquisition’. Cassandra stiffened slightly beside me, I wondered if she was as prepared to drop her title of seeker. I backed away and couldn’t hear anymore, I had seen the bloodshed in the Hinterlands and double checked my bow was on back. I didn’t know if I would have to fight my way out. I glanced around, but most people were watching in, and then it was like a pebble dropping into a pond. They all turned to face me, I looked up and the man in chantry robes was holding his arm out to me. I fumbled for words to say, but Cullen regained their attention.

‘Back to your duties, all of you’. He bellowed. The crowd began to move away. I did not know him well, but I was grateful to him.

I turned to Cassandra, ‘what is this about?’

She looked grim, ‘they want to put you on trial in Val Royeaux’.

Whatever happiness I had, drained away. I struggled to stay upright. This was it. I reached for the bracelet at my wrist. I faced Cassandra. ‘So, we go to Val Royeaux.’ I said with a certainty I did not feel.


	6. The Arrow in the Marketplace

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So Lavellan gets to Val Royeaux, but there isn't a trail as is expected. She tries to calm down and do some shopping, but someone fires an arrow at her face.

‘Well that was dramatic.’ Varric stated to the group.

I had found myself in Val Royeaux after a night of restless sleeping, I had been so worried and then the unexpected happened. I turned to Varric, laughing, ‘you’d better not put this in your next book!’

He put his hand on his chest, and pulling in a deep dramatic breath, ‘Mistress Lavellan, why ever not?’ he grinned. ‘We travel all this way expecting the chantry to put us on trial, I thought we were doomed. And yet we are free and have an invitation to Redcliffe from Grand Enchanter Fiona, who is looking particularly not-exploded. And speaking of the not-exploded, the Lord Seeker is look well, feisty, punching a Reverent Mother in the face no less. I mean we have been declared heretics, but win, loss, win, loss.’

I grinned at him.

‘The Lord Seeker shamed himself’. Cassandra snapped, cutting through our frivolity.

I looked back at her, she was no longer wearing the eye chestplate that unsettled me so much. I looked at her face, she seemed older than this morning.  _ A fool, a traitor and a madwoman…  _ she was as scared as the rest of us I realised with a slight shock. I glanced around, what were we doing. This inquisition was madness, we had no support. I considered the horses we had tied up outside the Sun Gate. I could slip away and get a good head start. At that exact moment, pain flared in my hand and I realised I couldn’t. I was tied to the green rifts that covered the land, I was the only one who could remove them. If I didn’t then home would be overrun before long. I looked down at my hand and flexed my fingers, it was my duty to stay.

* * *

Our little group made our way slowly around the little courtyard, the crowds were dispersing. They edged away from us like we were carrying the plague. I pulled my hood down to cover my ears and forehead.

I decided to ignore the crowds and focused instead on the market stalls. Brightly coloured knick-knacks from all over Thedas were on display. A yellow-pink blob caught my eye and I stepped closer for a look. I felt a grin spread across my face, it was a little statue, no bigger than my hand. It was a woman, her feet were surrounded by waves, reptilian wings sprouted from her back and she held a pale-yellow orb in one hand. It was the wonkiest, gaudiest statue of Mythal I had ever seen, and I fell in love. I looked back to Solas and Cassandra who were behind me. ‘Look!’ I said excitedly.

Solas and Cassandra exchanged a tired glance. I gave them each a look, ‘How much?’ I questioned turning back to the stall.

‘We do not trade with the inquisition’. Came the unimpressed Orlais accent.

I looked up at the merchant, and I was surprised to find the accent belonged to an elf. Only a few years older than me, and Dalish too. But, the  _ vallaslin  _ were unlike anything I had ever seen. Patterns I didn’t recognise and a smudge mark under the eye. I felt a burst of anger, I had heard of elves painting their faces and trying to pass their statues off as genuine Dalish.

‘It is a waste of our resources, Herald…’ Cassandra said.

I smiled sweetly to Cassandra and she turned away from me, I looked back at the merchant. ‘Wash your face. If you change your mind send me a message. I’ll pay double what…’ An arrow flew by my head.

I heard it clatter harmlessly off the stone, as I ducked. Cassandra grabbed me, yanking me by the arm and under cover. In a sort of slow motion, as I twisted to see the attacker, I saw Varric loading a bolt onto Bianca and Solas reaching for my hand. I reached back, and the world exploded into green, he half dragged me and I half ran forward, exploding back into technicolour reality in a shadowy alcove the other side of the market square. I drew an arrow, ‘can you see them?’ I asked, my eyes were alert washing the rooftops.

His staff was in his hand and he was poised, he soften and tapped his staff on the ground and stepped back into the shadows with me. ‘I don’t see them, but they shouldn't be able to see us.’ 

I nodded and leaned back against the back of the alcove, I had thought it was overkill to plan for an assassination attempt. 

‘Are you hurt?’ Solas asked.

I shook my head, ‘no, I’m fine,’ I glanced out at the marketsquare. Few people seems to have even noticed. ‘I didn’t think I would actually be a target.’

‘You represent a very dangerous idea, Heral…’ he coughed, ‘Hellana’. 

I leaned my head back against the cool wall, ‘it’s just another thing to add to the list, I guess.’ I ticked them off on my fingers, ‘Hole in the sky, demons jumping out of rifts and now someone’s trying to murder me’. I rubbed my eyes and let my fingertips linger under my eyes for a second.  _ Ghilan'nain, please, guide me _ . 

‘Assassinate, not murder, they don’t care about you as a person’. 

‘Right’. I sighed and suddenly became very aware that we were stood very close in a dark corner. I pulled my hood down nervously. 

‘Solas? Herald?’ I heard Cassandra from around the corner. She appeared, barely concealing her annoyance. Varric trailed behind her, he turned so his back was too us and could surveying the area. Cassandra held out the arrow to the us, ‘it appears to be a message’. The arrow was long, with a big red ribbon tied around the tip.

I reached out to the ribbon and looked around the marketplace. I had seen these arrows before in the Free Marches. ‘Red Jenny…’ I exclaimed quietly, then I turned it over, and in black ink on the ribbon was scrawled in a flowing hand was the message.  

_ People say you’re special. I want to help, and I can bring everyone. _

_ Meet me at the docks. I’ll be  _ _ red-y _ _. Don’t be followed. _

_ Friends of Red Jenny. _

‘Two invitations in one day, my we are popular!’. Varric laughed turning to face the three of us.

I slung my bow back on my shoulder, ‘We should go and see.’

‘It might be a trap,’ Cassandra cautioned, ‘though an obvious one’, she added, unimpressed. 


	7. The Lady in Yellow Leggings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lavellan and the gang get a little bit lost in Val Royeaux, tempers flare and they stumble across the red clues to find a certain elf in yellow leggings!

We spent the rest of the day traipsing around Val Royeaux. After much debate, we’d eventually gone to the docks. I’d been sat on a wooden crate, watching Cassandra bluster about me being constantly in danger. Cassandra paced back and forth, while Varric skimmed stones out onto the harbour. Solas was stood to the side, merely watching us, his arms crossed over his chest. I let Cassandra rage, and I tucked my legs under me to get more comfortable. _She going to be angry for a while_. Eventually, I leant back, and my hand came into contact with something cold. I looked behind me to find a small metal box, it has a streak of red paint on the top. _Redy._ I picked it up, examining it. Ignoring Cassandra’s words of protest, I gingerly opened it to find a scroll of parchment with our next clue. It directed us to a secluded courtyard. The only problem was that none of our company knew exactly where this courtyard was supposed to be.

* * *

The sun had long since set when we found ourselves in the right place. We were stood in a dark lane, the tall buildings of Val Royeaux towered above us, and the moonlight filtered down. In the daylight I imagined the place as painted in bright golds and royal blues. Faint music leaked onto the streets from a tavern that was nearby.

The group was tired, and Cassandra was still deeply upset that we hadn’t already left the capital of Orlais. My heart was beating excitedly in my chest, I was excited and nervous to meet one of the fabled Friends of Red Jenny. I had heard tales of their adventures when we traded with the _shemlen_ and the younger children in our clan played ‘Red Jenny’s and Nobles’. I smiled to think of their shrieks of joy, racing around the camp site. It was nothing more than a standard of tag, that had been glorified with the addition of a single red ribbon.  _It had been too long since I'd seen them all._

‘I think this is the place’, Varric said as he pulled Bianca off his shoulder and began the process of loading his first bolt.

There was a great arch before us, it was gated with an intricate iron gate. I pushed my hood back so that my sight was unobstructed. I looked at the little group, ‘ready?’ I asked and in turn they nodded determined. Cassandra unsheathed her sword and the sound of metal echoed around us. I looked over to Solas, his mouth was set in a grim line. His face was illuminated from the side, showing off his sharp features. _If I licked his cheekbone, would I cut my tongue?_

‘Herald?’ Varric queried making me jump out of my musing.

I flushed and moved forward, pushing the gate open with my unmarked hand. Through the arch, a serving man dressed finely stopped dead when he saw us. He dropped a platter, which clattered noisily to the ground. ‘The inquisition!’ His faced was pale with fear, ‘how did you know?’ Before any of us could react, he sprinted off into a building.

‘I guess this was the right place,’ I muttered into the silence. Within minutes we were being attacked by two splendidly dressed personal guards.

Once they were dead, I glanced around the courtyard, there were heavy shipping boxes lined up again one wall. I notched an arrow and let it fly towards one, the arrow broke through the wood to reveal a glowing red mineral. I walked closer to examine it, but Varric held his arm out to stop me. ‘Don’t touch it.’ He hissed. ‘If it’s what I think it is, that’s bad new’.

I was about to ask what it could be when two elegantly carved blue garden doors opened, revealing a masked noble. He looked between the four of us and sent a fire ball towards me. I jumped back to avoid it. ‘Herald of Andraste. How much did you expend to find me?’ He sent another fire ball which soared towards Cassandra. It burst across her shield, the embers dropped to the ground harmlessly by her feet. The light was reflected in the gold mask that he wore. He held his hands up, as though to ask for a cease fire. I held a hand out, signalling to stop the attack.

‘Who are you?’ I demanded, notching an arrow but aiming it at the ground.

He laughed dramatically, ‘You don’t fool me. I’m too important for this to be an accident.’

At that moment a woman stepped out from the shadows, with an arrow trained at his neck. ‘Just say what!’

He smirked, ‘What is…’ the woman drew her bow and shot an arrow into his throat. He dropped to the ground.

The woman turned to me, she was bright. Wearing yellow and red. She looked at the corpse, ‘squishie one. You heard me say what, right?’ She laughter and bend down to grab the arrow, ‘bla bla, arrow in my face’.

She turned back to me. It was difficult to see her in dark courtyard. ‘Looks like you got my notes well enough. Ew, an elf, all that talk and you’re an elf. You’d better not be too elfy.’

I frowned at her, uncertain of who she was.

Instead she pointed at more of the boxes ‘There’s cover, get behind it. I found their equipment storage, so they don’t have any breeches.’ I glanced at her uncertain of what to make, and before I could think wooden doors that I hadn’t noticed to the right burst open and a small handful of trouser-less men came running in, swords waving. Between the five of us, we made quick work of the half-naked guards.

When quiet returned to the courtyard the woman turned to me. ‘I’m Sera, my people said the inquisition should look at this one’.

I glanced across at the corpse, leaking blood on the stone cobbles and shuddered a little. Who was he and what kind of enemy did I not know about. I looked back at her and suddenly noticed the ears, ‘your people? Elves?’

She made a rude noise, ‘no, the Friends of Red Jenny’.

I make an excited noise and clapped my hands together, completely forgetting her remarks about elves, ‘you’re a Friend of Red Jenny?’.

She looked me up and down, the trace of disgust was washing away from her face. ‘We want to help you, well, I want to help you’.

I took her hand in the _shem_ way and shook it, ‘welcome to the inquisition.’

She smiled, then noticed Solas and her face dropped, ‘oh, balls, there are more of you’.


	8. Campfire Conversation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It sounds like a bad joke, but what do you get if a monotheist, a polytheist and an agnostic have a conversation round a campfire?

The sky was darkening, and I sat by the light of the campfire, adding sticks and logs slowly, whispering prayers to Sylaise as I did so. I had almost ended up as a hearthmistress, I had learned the correct prayers just in case. We were camped two days ride away from Val Royeaux. I was grateful to get away from the gilded city and back into the forest. Sera handed me a cup. I brushed my hands clean on my trousers and took the cup from her, smiling at her before standing up and taking a place next to her in the circle around the camp fire. In the two days since I had met her, I had fallen a little in love with Sera. She was daring, wicked quick with a bow and never failed to speak her mind. I was in awe of her as a Friend of Red Jenny, and we had slipped into an easy friendship.

I took a sip of drink that Sera had poured a coughed a little, it was strong brandy. ‘Are you trying to get me drunk?’ I asked playfully.

‘Sure thing, your lady bits’. Sera grinned, slipping the bottle back into her pack.

I saluted her with my cup and stared at the fire. I took a swig but put it down quickly _._ On the other side of the fire I watched Solas reading an old tome, I couldn’t even read the script that it was written in and much to my chagrin I was realising slowly that his grasp of elfish was much better than mine. I lent against Sera, watching Solas’ fire-lit hands turning the pages. I took another sip of the drink and felt the smooth liquid warm me from within, _I'd better not drink too much or I'll be crawling to bed_. I looked up at the stars that were just appearing overhead and for a split second I felt like I was back home. 

‘Anyone for a game of Wicked Grace?’ Varric asked pulling a deck of cards out of the inside pocket of his jacket. Solas glanced up but shook his head.

‘I think that is my que to sleep’. Cassandra said. I looked across at her, she had been cleaning her sword. She sheathed it and stood.

I dragged myself to my feet and went over to her, ‘before you do, I just wanted to thank you’. She looked at me suspiciously, but she led me slightly away from the fire to talk more privately.

‘I do not agree with all of your actions, Herald’. She looked a little grim.

I nodded but took her hand. ‘Keep disagreeing with me. I’ve been lucky so far. You’ve kept me alive and don’t for a second think that I don’t know that’.

Her stance relaxed, and she squeezed my hand a little in return. ‘I will’. She promised before retreating for the evening.

I turned back to the camp, ‘deal me a hand!’ I called to Varric as I made my way back over.

* * *

Two games of Wicked Grace later, and quite a few drinks after, Varric turned to me. ‘So how did a Dalish girl get to be herald of Andraste?’

I laughed. ‘Beats me’.

He laughed as well, ‘so what is the Maker to you?’

 _Oppression._ But I didn’t dare say that to him, I knew some dwarves worshipped stone, but I didn't want to guess his beliefs. I considered my words, taking another sip, but found my cup was empty. I waved it at Sera. She rolled her eyes but poured me another. ‘The Maker… is complicated.’

Sera made a rude noise at my remark. So, I made a face back in return, but turned back to Varric to give more information. ‘I don’t necessarily believe he doesn’t exist. He just isn’t one of my Nine.’

‘How do you deal with so many gods?’ Varric asked.

I laughed, ‘how do you deal with just one?’ I countered.

Varric shuffled the cards in his hands, ‘But how do you know how to pray to?’

‘They each have roles and jobs, you just know. Like you wouldn’t go to a blacksmith to get a loaf of bread. You wouldn’t go to June for a fair sea crossing.’ I shrugged.

Sera shuddered, ‘it’s all just crap, to keep the people working and not questioning’.

‘Maybe,’ I agreed half-heartedly, not really agreeing, but hardly wanting to get deeper into a debate with her about it. ‘But if you strip all the…’ I waved my hands, ‘stuff away, you’re still left with all the things that the gods represent, like love, death, secrets’ I ticked them off on my fingers, I lowered my voice slightly ‘even chaos.’ I took a sip of my drink, a little unsettled. I have expected to hear a wolf howl in the distance, but nothing happened.

Sera laughed raucously, ‘ugg that makes no sense. Chaos? Confusing, yeah?’ She exchanged a look with Varric, tapped her hands impatiently on her legs and pulled out the now practically empty bottle of brandy and dumped what was left into her own cup.

I shook my head laughing, ‘isn’t that what you do though? Shake things up a bit?’

Sera crossed her arms defensively. ‘Rich tits get what they deserve.’

‘Exactly, so you see my point. Chaos isn’t always a bad thing. Sometimes we need someone to shake things up’.

‘Is your view common among the Dalish?’ It was Solas’ voice. I had forgotten he was still awake. His tone was curious. I looked over to him. His book was closed around a finger, keeping his place. He was watching us intently.

I met his eyes, but then glanced up at the open sky. ‘I couldn’t say, I know what I know and what my Keeper taught me’. I answered as honestly as I could.

He didn’t seem satisfied with the answer, although he made a point of opening his book and studying the page.

‘It certainly is interesting,’ Varric said as he laid out a new hand. ‘But I’ll stick with the one god’. 


	9. Sleepover?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sera is introduced to Haven, and has a drink and a drunken chat with Lavellan about Haven and where on earth Sera is going to sleep. She can't sleep in the tavern, right?

I was grateful to be back in Haven again. I touched my cheeks with my fingertips, and thanked Ghilan’nain for getting me back safely. It was late, and I dumped my belongings in my little cabin, not even bothering to unpack and went down to the tavern. I had promised Sera I would have a drink with her. When I met her, she was looking a little uncertain, she still had her pack with her. I raised an eyebrow but didn’t question it.

The tavern was mostly empty, two tables were taken up with some of Cullen’s soldiers and I noticed that Maryden was sitting on her own at a table restringing her instrument. I bought Sera a drink from Flissa and we settled down at a rough-cut wooden table in the far back corner of the Singing Maiden, ‘so welcome to Haven, I guess.’

‘So, this is it, huh?’ she glanced around, ‘I expected it to be bigger’ she laughed nervously, moving the cup back and forth between her hands, ‘that would have been hilarious if you were a man, right?’ I smiled with her, but her laughter turned sour, ‘What everyone needs is to get everything back to normal and proper. Because here is stupid, and smells of horse.’

Unconsciously I sniffed the air, I had to agree with her, it did smell like horse. ‘I wish it were that simple.’ I said with a sigh.

She looked at me stubbornly, crossing her arms over her chest. ‘Yes, it is.’

I looked at her curiously, ‘why?’

‘Just because someone yelled it really loud, make them prove it. They’re too busy to look up to where the real questions are.’ She sat back in her chair, drink forgotten.

‘The real questions?’ I asked taking a sip of my drink and expecting a long debate.

She looked at me, and then deflated a little ‘are you just going to repeat everything I say all night. It’s not a problem, yeah, so long as you’re buying. Saving the world doesn’t bring in as many sovereigns as it should.’

I had to agree with her. But I held my hands up instead and decided not to argue. I enjoyed her company, ‘Fine, fine. Three drinks and that’s it.’

She smiled broadly and sat back satisfied, she put her yellow-clad legs up on the table.

I glanced over at her stuff, piled in a messy heap on the floor. ‘Where are you staying?’

‘I guess here.’ She looked a little ashamed.

I looked around at the tavern. Although it wasn’t packed, and I was certain she could defend herself, I didn’t like the idea of her staying here. I shook my head, ‘Don’t be silly. I have a cabin, you can stay with me. If you like?’

She nodded, ‘sounds fun.’ Then she looked at me curiously, I watched her eyes work their way across my figure, and then she looked at my _vallaslin_ and frowned, ‘are you going to try anything? Because I could be into that, maybe.’ She waggled her eyebrows at me.

I blushed a little and shook my head, ‘no, no. I mean you’re lovely, really.’

She tipped her head back and laughed out loud. ‘I know,’ she confirmed, ‘but I’ve seen you looking at Solas, though he looks like he’d shout elven glory when he does it.’ She crinkled her nose up a little at her own comment.

I breathed in my drink and spluttered, coughing beer across the table. I could do nothing but stare at her, wide eyed. I felt my mouth open and close unable to make a response. I could feel the heat rising so fast in my face it reached the tips of my ears. ‘Shhhhhh’. I eventually managed and glanced around, praying to all the gods that no one had heard. ‘How the hell did you know?’ I hissed, rubbing my eyes.

She looked incredibly smug with herself and gave me a shrug. ‘Didn’t, but bet Varric ten gold you did.’ She leaned back in her chair, taking her drink in both hands and draining it. She put the cup down on the table with a thud and she looked at me expectantly, fluttering her eyelashes.

I glared but got up with a smile. I was about to go to the bar, but I turned back to her. ‘You should really tell me something embarrassing about you, to be fair.’

She narrowed her eyes at me. I left to get another round of drinks. I sat down and looked at her expectantly. She took the offered drink and then laughed, ‘fat chance.’

I sighed and then put my head on the table. ‘Please don’t say anything.’ I mumbled pitifully.

She laughed but put her hand on mine to reassure me. ‘Of course, I wont,’ She waved her cup at me, ‘anyway, it’s typical. Elves and elves, trousers down to rebuild the empire.’

My insides turned cold and I looked at her hard, I felt like she’d stabbed me. ‘Don’t say that.’

‘You know it’s true.’ She smirked.

I crossed my arms. ‘I can’t have children. It isn’t about that.’

Her face fell, and it was her turn to stare at me in wide-eyed shock. ‘I’m sorry.’ She whispered, taking my hand again and giving it a little squeeze. I was grateful she didn’t ask anything further.

I shook my head, ‘you didn’t know.’ I paused for a long minute, feeling sick. When the feeling passed, I looked up again and smiled lightly trying to move on from this unfortunate conversation. ‘Do you want me to show you the cabin?’

She smiled meekly, and I helped her carry her things.


	10. Merchant Acquired

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hungover from a night drinking with Sera, Lavellan wakes up to find that she is needed in the Chantry. When she gets there she finds that Josephine has a package for her. It's always useful to have another contact right?

I walked through the streets of Haven, I had been summoned to a meeting in the Chantry with Josephine. My head pounded and I only slightly regretted drinking so much with Sera the night before. I had helped her move into my cabin and we’d headed back to the tavern. I hoped it was too early for a serious meeting and that it wasn’t going to be another war council. We couldn’t  all be like Cullen who goes to bed at dusk and wakes at dawn.

Entering the chantry was still an unusual experience for me. Faintly echoing words of prayer resonated across the grey stone walls. Candles flickered, casting strange shadows over the faces of gods and prophets that I did not know. Since the Elven gods had been locked away, the Dalish only worshipped under the open sky so there would be no barriers between us. Worship under the high vaulted building felt uncomfortable to me. I stopped before a great carved statue of Andraste, I looked at her face. Wondering what she could think of me being named as her herald. I wondered if she felt as uneasy with me as I did with her.

‘Herald?’

I turned away from the statue to turn to Lady Josephine. She was covered in gold and purple flowing fabrics and she was a wonder to look at. I had no idea how much her outfit cost but suspected it could feed our clan for a good month. She looked unsure, ‘did I disturb your devotion?’ She asked carefully.

I looked between her and the statue of Andraste, ‘no. What can I do for you?’

‘I have an interesting one for you, if you have a moment’ she led me towards her little office. It was in one of the rooms off the main hallway of the Chantry. Her desk was piled with papers and documents. She had a small library of books around her and I saw many candle stubs burnt down. I suspected she had spent many late nights in this room. She reached behind her desk and pulled out a small box. ‘A merchant approached us this morning. They were from Val Royeaux and wanted a job.’

I looked at the box, it was a small roughly made wooden crate. I gave Josephine a curious look, ‘why are you telling me?’

Josephine clicked her tongue and waved her hand at the box, ‘the merchant says that his master kicked him out after he talked to you. He gives this as a gift to you and asks you to help him.’

‘Me?’

‘I have not opened the box, I thought you might know more.’

I looked at her, ‘I don’t know...’ I look the little dagger out of my boot and carefully wedged the top slat off the crate. Inside was filled with sawdust and I glanced over apologetically at Josephine as sawdust spilled out onto the floor. I brushed the wood chips away with the hilt of my dagger until I saw the top of a painted statue. ‘Oh.’

I pulled the gaudy statue of Mythal out of the box. ‘I had forgotten,’ I glanced at Josephine, ‘I spoke to a merchant and asked to buy this, then someone fired an arrow at my head. In the chaos I forgot’.

Josephine looked at the little statue in my hands, ‘why would you want this?’

I held the statue protectively in my arms. ‘I liked it’. I said sheepishly. ‘Can we help the merchant?’

Josephine nodded, ‘it would be useful to begin building trade connections. Having contacts in Val Royeaux would be extremely useful. I will ensure this man is well looked after.’ She then busied herself with a stack of documents. She didn’t seem to want to look at me or the statue.

‘Thank you, Josephine.’

She nodded, and I felt that I was dismissed.

* * *

I cradled the statue and walked back to the cabin that I now shared with Sera. I opened the door and snuck in quickly to ensure that I didn’t let the cold air get in. Sera was still asleep, as it was late, we had been unable to find an extra cot, so she had piled blankets up into a corner and curled herself into a ball. She gave me a dirty look as I closed the door and make an annoyed growl.

‘Sorry!’ I whispered, and tip toed over to my own bed. I sat down and put the little statue on top of a cabinet. 

‘What is it?’ Sera asked sitting up, she stretched out and then looked at me expectantly.

I was looking around for objects to set up a little shrine, I wanted an offering bowl, ‘it’s Mythal.’ I found a wooden cup and took the sleeve of my shirt to make sure the inside was clean.

Sera made a rude noise and I looked across, her arms were folded across her chest. ‘You’re not putting it there’.

I scowled and opened the cupboard up. I pulled out the various items of clothing and tucked them under my bed. I put the statue inside, with a little cup in front of it. I reached into my pack and pulled out a water canteen, I pulled the cork out of the top and poured in a little to the cup. I bowed at the statue. I could not formally worship here, because it was indoor, but I loved the idea of having the goddess of my _vallaslin_ so close. I had to smirk at myself, maybe these Andrastians were rubbing off on me. I turned back to Sera ‘Is it better? Look,’ I closed the cabinet door, ‘gone.’

She glared at me but nodded slowly. ‘Fine.’


	11. Sera was Never

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Assumptions and miscommunications are bound to happen when Lavellan is too awkward to function around Solas.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translations at the end.

The next few days in Haven passed uneventfully. To my great delight, the previous night, Maryden began to play a song I had not heard before, Sera recognised it wide eyed and banged her head on the table in frustration. I watched her as I heard the lyrics and a wicked smile grew on my face. ‘I guess this is fair.’ I had asked Maryden to repeat the song all through the night.

* * *

Which meant that the next morning I had the song in my head. I hummed it as I worked outside in the cold morning air checking over my equipment, so I wouldn’t wake Sera.

‘Please stop.’ I looked up and it was Solas standing over me, looking unimpressed. He was frowning, and I considered kissing him then, just to see if I could cheer him up.

I laughed at his annoyance, ‘don’t you like the tune?’ I teased and stood, leaving back against the little wall. ‘I mean, I don’t know any other songs about elves, do you?’ 

‘Many,’ he said, though his brow furrowed, ‘though they would not translate well.’

I smiled, once I would have been surprised when he said something like that. ‘Let me guess, you found them in the fade? I wish I could hear them.’ I said wistfully, thinking of the wonders he must see dreaming in the fade.

'You have a love for all things elven?' He asked.

I nodded, 'of course. It is difficult to be so far away from my people.' I closed my eyes to the tug of homesickness that threatened to flare in me. 

He gave me a knowing look. ‘Then I am not surprised. I mean,' he paused, seeming to chose his words, 'it seems natural that you would desire another elf.’ The way he said desire made my heart twist, and my breath skip.

Then his words settled into placed I flushed completely, guessing at his meaning. ‘Did she tell you? Fenedhis!’ I hissed. Clearly, I shouldn’t have baited Sera last night, I buried my head in my hands. I felt my face burn hot, even my ears were red.  

Solas smiled a little at my distress, but it didn’t reach his eyes. ‘It was completely obvious.’

I started at him in shock, it was not exactly how I’d planned this conversation going. _Oh Mythal, how had I let this crush get so out of hand?_

‘I admit, I do not approve.’ I glanced at him, his jaw was tight.

My heart hurt, all the breath left my chest. ‘ _Ir abelas_ ’. I whispered, using the Elven to add formality.

‘Don’t be sorry. We cannot help who we love’. He said, with an almost sorrowful tone.

‘I so ashamed, I should have told you before. I thought I was subtle, I didn’t think you knew... It’s not that I didn’t want you to know.’ I could hear my own voice raising in pitch. I tried to calm myself down. I could see the tree he had painted on the grey stone wall of the Chantry, it hadn’t been so long again, but I found myself entangled in those leaves. I was still entangled I realised cursing myself, despite his disapproval. ‘You must realise this isn’t ideal.’

His eyebrow raised, ‘You realise that everyone knows now you moved in with her?’

His words stopped me in my tracks and the full horror of the situation dawned on me. I left out a hysterical laugh, I felt like the gods were laughing at me. Setting me up for this comedy of errors. I just hoped it would have a happy ending. I held up a finger, ‘Wait what?’ I asked slowly. ‘What… what do you think we’re talking about?’ I demanded.

He inclined his head, ‘your relationship with Sera.’

I shook my head, ‘No, no.’ I waved my hands and laughed. ‘Sera is not, was never.’ I felt my legs wobbling beneath me. ‘We’re very good friends. She’s in the cabin with me, because she was going to sleep in the tavern!’ I exclaimed.

Solas’ piercing eyes examined my face, searching for meaning. In a second, I saw his face change, like a hunter spying their prey. He understood. ‘So, what were you talking about?’ A slight smile played on his lips and his eyes were hungry now.

I put on a big fake smile and shook my head. ‘It doesn’t matter. I should… go’. I needed time to think, I thought desperately. ‘But, we should… talk’. My throat was dry, I licked my lips. ‘ _Dareth shiral_ ,’ I said formally, with a little more severity than I meant to.

He nodded, ‘I have misjudged you.’ He said simply.

 

I walked away and ran my hands through my hair. I realised I was shaking. I didn’t know where my feet took me, but eventually I lent back against a grey stone wall outside of Haven. I could feel my heart thumping in my chest and I was leaned my head back against the cold stone.

‘Excuse me?’ A voice asked. My head came up and I looked over, ‘I have a message for the inquisition, but I’m having a hard time getting anyone to speak to me.’

‘Give me the message.’

He gave me a look, as though he was uncertain if I was the right person to be speaking to but introduced himself anyway. ‘Cremisius Aclassi, I’m with the Bull’s Chargers. We’re a mercenary Company. We got word of some Tevinter mercenaries gathering out on the Storm Coast. My company commander Iron Bull offers the information free of charge.’

I rubbed my forehead with my hand, my head was pounding, so I thought it was best to pass the problem on to someone else. ‘Come see Josie.’ I said and lead the mercenary to the Chantry.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ir abelas - I am sorry.  
> Dareth shiral - farewell/goodbye.


	12. The Bear and The Bull

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> On a trip to the Storm Coast, Lavellan considered the lessons that her mother taught her when she was little. She also recruits the Iron Bull to the Inquisition.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it took so long to update, I had a bit of a blank. But, the good news is that I've plotted out pretty much exactly where I want this story to go. Hopefully, it won't be so long a wait until the next chapter is up! *fingers crossed*

The black bear swung it’s claws at Cassandra, and she blocked the attack with her arm. The beast had caught us unaware, and I stumbled up the side of a hill to get a better point to rain down arrows from. The gravelled hillside was wet from the constant rain and the pebbles resisted my weight and I fell forwards. I scraped my hands and rolled over to see what was happening. The bear slammed into Cassandra again and I could see she was faltering. I watched her stagger, to the side as Solas appeared by her side casting freezing spells.

I pushed myself to my feet, the situation was dire, and we had to retreat.

For a second the bear was magically frozen solid, and I shouted to my companions to run. I pushed myself to my feet and drew closer. Cassandra looked like she didn’t hear me and continued attacking, on instinct I ran to her and grabbed her sleeve pulling her away. In the chaos of battle, she almost swung at me but stopped just in time. We started running. The bear unfroze, and I saw Sera following behind us sending arrows to convince it we were not worth following.

Once away I saw Cassandra hugging her arm to her chest, she grimaced.

‘Are you hurt?’ I asked softly.

She glared at me, although she took a misstep which jarred her, and she had to reluctantly nod. ‘We could have taken the bear.’ She demanded.

I sighed, ‘we need to stay alive. Learn from Andruil.’ I hissed, swearing the hunter’s curse.

Cassandra raised an andrastian eyebrow at me, I noticed even Solas was looking at me expectantly. ‘Even mad gods give gifts.’ I muttered by way of explanation. I thought of the stories my mother had taught me; Andruil has created hares that dart and hide. The hunter should have known when it was not the time to fight, but she didn’t and she went mad. _Little hare, little hunter,_ my mother had said to me _, you will be sworn to Andruil, learn from her._

Sera made a rude noise and complained loudly about my elfy ways. I shrugged, feeling a wave of homesickness, and I pushed past the group to lead the way through the muddy valley. We were supposed to be meeting the Bull’s Chargers, but so far all we’d found was rain, bears and mud.

 

‘We’re here, so, where are they?’ Sera asked when we arrived on the cliff overlooking the Storm Coast. I glanced around, seeing no one.

‘Are we sure this is the right place?’ Cassandra asked, I noticed her voice was strained and I glanced over. She needed rest.

‘We should make camp here and wait for them.’ I suggested. I dumped my pack on the group, and grimaced as it landed with a wet plop. I was starting to really hate the Storm Coast, the rain and mud and… I heard a cry. I glanced around at the little group. Leaving my pack on the ground we rushed down the hill to see a fight going on. I recognised one of them as Krem, these must be the Chargers. They were being attacked by a group dressed in rich fabrics drawn over mail, Tevinters? I fired an arrow from above and began the attack.

* * *

The battle was over almost as quickly as it had started. The waves roared around us and I glanced around the group that was still gathered. A little cheer rang up among the mercenary group. Cassandra came to stand next to me, she struck her sword into the sand and rested on it lightly.

I looked around at the group, Krem approached me with the largest person I’d ever seen. Grey skin and twisted dark horns, I recognised them as a qunari, but their belt alone must have been wider than my shoulders. I had been one of the tallest in my clan, I was starting to get a little sick of looking up to people.

‘Break out the casts.’ I heard him call. A little nervous, I approached.

He turned to face me, ‘you must be with the inquisition.’

I nodded and held my left hand up. The green mark flared. ‘Iron Bull?’ I guessed.

‘The Iron Bull,’ he corrected with a smile, ‘the horns usually give it away. Grab a seat the drinks are coming.’

I glanced around the rainy shore, it was hardly the occasion to have a party. The barrels were cracked open and someone pressed a wooden cup into my hands, I looked up and saw vallaslin on a pale woman with straw-coloured hair. I smiled at her, finally someone who was shorter than me. Someone who wasn't Varric that was. Then glanced around at the group, it was a varied crew. The Iron Bull sat down next to me, I noticed he was missing an eye as we briefly knocked our cups together, I glanced up to see Solas politely refuse a drink and I rolled my eyes inwardly. I turned my attention back to the qunari. ‘So, you’ve seen us fight. We’re expensive, but I’m sure the inquisition can afford us.’

I took a sip and surveyed the group, ‘you seem useful, and I have a job for you, to prove yourself if you will.’

The Iron Bull tipped his head forward, ‘what kind of job.’

I pointed towards Cassandra who was looking uneasy but had remained standing by her sword. She also hadn’t touched the offered drink, ‘that’s Cassandra. She important. She got injured on the way down. Can you get her safely back to Haven?’

‘I see.’ He considered for a moment, ‘we can take her.’

I smiled, ‘good, when you get there talk to Josephine, can’t miss her she’s all gold and frills and purple, she will sort the gold out.’

The corner of his mouth tilted up, ‘one more thing, might piss you off. I’m Ben-Hassrath.’

 _Qunari spy_ , I nodded, considering. I glanced over him, half his chest was exposed and covered in white scars. He definitely looked like he could handle himself in a fight, with Cassandra down I didn’t like the look of our chances if I refused him.

‘I will be sending reports back,’ The Iron Bull continues, ‘I was sent to join the inquisition and get close to the people in charge. But I get reports back, we have people all over Orlais and anything I get I will share.’

I smiled at my hands, thinking of my old life. In comparison, he was a terrible spy. Maybe it was a bluff, or even a double bluff. Leliana could have him if he betrayed us, I thought with a smirk, she would enjoy that. So, I raised my glass to him, ‘welcome aboard.’

 

I should have told Cassandra about the arrangement before I sent her away, she was furious. Raging across the beach, and then wincing in pain whenever she moved her arm too much. It was beginning to swell, but she wouldn’t let the charger’s healer look. ‘I will not go.’ She spat at me.

I raised my eyebrow, ‘I might as well close a couple rifts while I’m here, I will follow you in a day or two.’ I reasoned.

‘I will not leave you three here, running a mockery of the inquisition.’ She spat.

I crossed my arms, ‘us three?’ I glanced at Solas and Sera, guess what we had in common? I narrowed my eyes at the shem with the eye on her chest.

‘Yes, how can I trust…’ Cassandra stopped, then looked a little uncertain and I saw the steady realisation that she was not surrounded by shem and I strongly suspected she was the only one about with a title. I begrudgingly liked Cassandra, but sometimes she really didn’t have a clue. I was about to tell her as much, when I was interrupted.

‘If you’re worried about them getting injured, I will stay with you, boss.’ The Iron Bull interjected, and I was amused to find that he was looking at me when he said boss. ‘Throw me at demons, dragons, the bigger the better.’

Cassandra made a disgusted noise but went with the Chargers without any further protest. When they were gone, I let out a shaky breath, and the tension that I hadn’t realised I’d kept dissipated.


	13. Doubling Up...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The dangers of the Storm Coast really have it out for Lavellen as she spends a day under the torrential rain.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, that this one is a bit longer than normal, but I had too much to write! 
> 
> Sharing tents, I know! It's a trope, I'm trash #sorrynotsorry. 
> 
> P.S. Does anyone know what the requisition officers name is?

I disliked the Storm Coast. I had thought that I would like it, being so close to home again that I thought I might be able to see it. Except that it wasn’t called the Storm Coast for no reason. My pack was soaked through, making it twice as heavy to carry. The ground was covered in tiny smooth pebbles that happily fell away underfoot, threatening twisted ankles with every step. I tried to keep positive, but there really wasn’t anything to be positive about here. We had discovered an abandoned Grey Warden campsite in the morning, which had given us a single bottle of disgusting mixed spirits which Sera had immediately liberated. I had closed another two rifts by lunch time. We stopped to eat on a cliff overlooking the sea. The white horses jumped and smashed into the waters, and the roar of the waves echoed loudly.

Then I heard it, a scream then erupted through the air, high and lonely, piercing and cruel. The Iron Bull roared and ran forward to get a better look. And sure enough, down on the beach was a purple and yellow dragon breathing lightning bolts onto a troll.

‘I hate the Storm Coast,’ I said cheerfully to the Iron Bull,

The qunari turned to me and grinned, ‘I love this job, boss.’

‘Nope,’ I heard Sera call from behind me.

I took a step forward and walked into a warm barrier, I realised Solas had his arm in front of me, I looked at him and he made a motion with his hand to stay back and then another to stay quiet.

I glanced over at Bull, he looked like a sad puppy that we were not running in to slay a dragon.

We waited, silence and patient on top of the cliff. Until the dragon defeated the troll and then it launched itself on great reptilian wings, screeching again into the sky. It sent a brilliant ball of purple lightning towards us, hitting above us. The lightning snaked black down the old trunk, and with a sickening creak, it turned in slow motion towards us. I was pulled physically from my feet, I closed my eyes and felt a weight on top of me. After a moment I realised I was not in pain as I was expecting to me and opened my eyes, the weight was Solas.

I made a small noise in the back of my throat and he jumped away from me guilty.

I pushed myself to my feet, ‘anyone hurt?’ I asked. We were unharmed, ‘ _ma seranna_ ,’ I said to Solas, but he was already walking away. I shook myself off and we continued on.

A little while later, I heard my name and looked over to see Sera and Iron Bull deep in conversation, as I turned, they shook their hands in the shem fashion. Sera met my eyes and a grin spread across her face. I didn’t want to know what she was up to.

 

After closing our third rift of the day, we stopped to make camp in early evening. Only half a handful of Inquisition Agents had joined us, and I could hear the small sounds of bustle around me as I set up my tent. In order to give everyone enough space, I had set up slightly closer to the edge of the cliff than I normally would have done. I was leaving my tent in order to grab my sodden belongings and I heard and odd sound. It was the sound of a pebble dropping down the cliff, I briefly though as I heard it again, and then again. _Fenedhis!_ _Gods help me_ , I thought as the landslide began.

My tent was dragged first off the cliff, and I scrambled to get away, but my foot was caught. I twisted on myself and desperately tried to free my foot from the opening of the tent. Then I realised dumbly I was moving. Rocks tore into my right arm and I could feel myself being battered as I tumbled. _I needed someone to return my woven bracelet_ , I thought as I was being dragged backward. The sound was intense, rumbling and roaring like the earth was trying to swallow me up. _Would they plant a tree here?_ I considered as the rocks and pebbles came bouncing off my back. Then I wasn’t being dragged anymore and I was slowing down. I came to a skidding holt half way up the cliff.

‘Boss?’ I heard Iron Bull shout, and I raised my hand to signal them. My arm was peppered with small stones that had embedded themselves through my jacket while I fell. I winced at the pain of taking my jacket off, but everything considered I was extremely lucky. No broken bones. I looked up at where I had fallen from and saw worried faces peaking over the side of the cliff. I heard someone call ‘herald’. I closed my eyes and rubbed them with my uninjured hand and pushed myself unsteadily to my feet. Keeping my arm close by my body I made my way back up in slope.

Nearly to the top and I saw Iron Bull was a couple of steps down, he reached down and pulled me the rest of the way up. I nodded my thanks as an elfroot potion was pushed into my hands by a green and brown clad inquisition agent. I drained it and handed her back the glass thankfully. I glanced around at the missing spot and realised I was doubly lucky as my pack was still where I had left it. And no one else had been caught in the landslide. I peeked back over the cliff and saw the remains of my tent mostly buried in rubble. I let out a breath, now I didn’t have anywhere to stay. I glanced around, the smaller number of inquisition agents meant there would be no free tents. _The gods only keep me around to laugh at me_.

‘Can I stay with you Sera?’ Almost congratulating myself with the idea.

‘Sorry, I’m already doubled up’. She seemed genuinely apologetic, until I saw her eyes light up with glee.

‘Is anyone not?’ I asked slowly, I suspected, please anything but... I prayed. Ugg that explains why Sera was so happy.

‘Take my tent’ Solas said, ‘I will stay up’.

‘Don’t be silly, sleep with me’. I said without thinking. I heard Sera cackle loudly and without looking at her I put up my hand in a rude shem gesture, only making her laugh more. ‘In the tent, with me,’ I clarified. ‘You can’t stay up, and there should be space for two bedrolls’. I didn’t wait for an answer and instead slumped down by the dying fire and used the remaining light to start treating my arm. I looked up at Sera, ‘if you have any white spirit, I’ll take it now’.

She mock curtsied at me and skipped away happily, I suspected more gold would be exchanged between her and Varric on their little bet once we got back to Haven. Sera dropped off a half empty bottle of something that gave off a strong alcoholic smell even with the cork in, and then she retreated away. I looked down to examine the bottle she gave me, it would do. And I glanced up to catch Sera’s figure sneak into the tent of the requisition officer, whose name I didn’t know. I took a moment to smile for my friend, _already doubled up_ _indeed_.

I uncorked the bottle she had given me with my teeth and took a slip. It burned all the way down my throat. I waved it vaguely in the direction of home and poured it over the wounds on the arm. I hissed around the cork, it stung. _Fenedhis_. I had also managed to soak the woven bracelet, I grimaced and swapped it over to my left hand. I knocked the rock dust off my arm and waiting a moment for the rain to wash away the excess. Then I pulled out a couple of bandaged and tried to unsuccessfully tie them one handed.  

‘Let me help’. He knelt and began tending to my injury before I could stop him. As he worked, I watching his face. High cheekbones illuminated by the drying fire, a stark expression on his lips and a faint blush revealing that he had freckles. And suddenly, like lightning on a humid day, I saw everything clearly. The blush as he touched my arm however chastely, _I could have him if I wanted_. My clarity snapped into place and my emotions were finally contained, I was not Andruil’s hare running for cover in his presence anymore. I was a winged dragon and I would stand my ground. I was a little dizzy from my new-found power, or maybe it was the fumes of the White spirit...

‘I am sorry for what I said, before.’

His words cut through my epiphany, and I smiled gently. ‘It’s funny, you know. Sera said almost the said thing when I told her, about you, I mean. Though she was much cruder’. I couldn’t help but smile to myself at the memory and pushed away the dreadful thought that all these elves seemed to despise each other.

He glanced up, and I noticed he was uncertain, torn. ‘I did not except myself to have anything in common with Sera’. He tied the bandage a little too firmly.

If it was supposed to be a chastisement I couldn’t help laughing, ‘forgive me then, because I think you are very similar.’

He sat back on his heels. Waiting.

Before that look would have stopped me, but now. ‘You are both here, at incredible risk. You are both kind and idealistic, and I need you both’. I took Solas hand in mine but looked down to the ground ‘I don’t want anything you’re not prepared to give. But I do need you to promise me something’.

I looked at his hand, a mage’s hand, a painter’s hand. ‘When the inquisition lose faith in me, when they come for me. Get out, don’t wait. Just leave. Don’t look back’.

In the silence all I could hear was the fire crackle and the sea far below us relentlessly wash against the shore. He squeezed my hand back lightly and nodded. And then he stood taking his hand and pulling me to my feet. For all his beautiful words, his actions spoke the clearest.

‘Thank you’, I said holding aloft my bandaged arm, and went away from him to find my pack. It was Near the cliff edge where I had fallen, standing tall like the Fen’Harel statues that guarded our camps. For a second, I considered leaving it to guard for the night, and then shook my head feeling foolish. Danger is coming, the shem has raised me high, all I could do was limit the damage. I felt an odd sort of calm, I knew the ending and I was already preparing for it. _A fool, a madwoman and traitor_ , the words had rattled around my head for weeks now. I looked at the pack and picked it up I could take all the help I could get, _may the wolf watch_ , I silently challenged the night sky.

* * *

I lay on my back in the tent, watching the light emerge. I had woken early but didn’t move. I was listening to Solas’ breathing beside me. It was sure and steady, he was asleep. I dared to look across and his face was relaxed, looking younger than it normally did. I looked back up at the fabric above me and sighed and sat up. I should pray, maybe see if I could hunt anything for breakfast. I pulled on my jacket and slipped the dagger out from under my pillow where I had hidden it before I slept.

‘For me?’ The sleepy voice asked, I jumped out of my skin. I looked over and it was as if Solas had pulled his age down like a mask. Though his voice was sleepy, his eyes were alert and watching the knife in my hands clearly.

‘No, not for you.’ I could hear my heart ringing in my ears, I slipped the dagger into my boot, ‘just for the wolf’. I said piously, and I couldn’t help glancing to entrance to the tent as if at that moment great jaws would peak through the flaps.

Solas just made an unimpressed noise in response and threw his arm over his eyes.

I gave him a sharp look and left the tent.

 

The morning was bright and clear, although the air was thick with dew and the scent of mud. A fire was going and I saw the qunari gutting an animal. He looked up at me, ‘morning boss’.

I indicated towards the ram, ‘you got there before me’.

Iron Bull grinned, ‘did you... have a good night?’

I raised my eyebrows, ‘excuse me?’

‘I have some money riding on the outcome’. He said completely unabashed.

My eyes widened, and I felt my blush reach the tips of my ears. I felt my rage flare and the green mark on my hand flared in sympathy sending shooting pains up my bones. ‘What do you mean?’ I snarled through clenched teeth.

‘It’s nothing to be ashamed of’.

Then I heard Sera’s laughter from the camp and all the pieces snapped together in my mind and I narrowed my eyes again. ‘Please, please, tell me Sera hasn’t continued that bet?’

Iron Bull pulled up one side of his mouth in a cheeky smile, ‘what bet would that be, boss?’

I gave him a hard smile, ‘nothing happened.’ His face lit up and I knew gold would be changing hands, ‘I’m going to kill her’. I marched over to the tents, ‘Sera!!’ I shouted.

Cursing came from the tent she had entered the night before, then a sound of pots clanging together and then a heavy thump.

I stared at the outside of the tent in disbelief and crossed my arms.

The elf appeared, with her yellow trousers on back to front, and her hair was significantly in more disarray than usual. She crawled out of the tent, and her boots on, she yawned and then froze when she saw the expression on my face. She wheeled around, ‘You tattle!’ She shouted over to Iron Bull.

He shrugged, ‘you lost!’ He shouted back.

‘What!’ She turned to me, and threw her hands up into the air, ‘Come on, that doesn’t make any sense’.

‘It doesn’t make any sense to me, why would you invite, someone we met yesterday’ I hissed, ‘to bet with you about my life’.

‘You’re the herald’, She shrugged, ‘you’re all up there. I’m making you real’.

I clenched my fists, ‘you’re what?’

‘Making you real, a real person. Not so high and mighty’. She said, ‘plus, I thought I would win’. She pouted.

I closed my eyes and rubbed the _vallaslin_ below my eyes with my fingertips, _Elgar’nan, give me revenge_.

At that moment, a sleepy woman appeared in the tent opening, ‘come back to… Herald?’ Her eyes widened.

 _Revenge, thank you Elgar’nan_. ‘Good morning,’ I smiled warmly with what I hoped was a wicked glint in my eye, ‘anything to report?’

She gulped, and looked guilty between me and Sera, ‘nothing…’ she swallowed, ‘to report, Ser’.

I laughed and clapped Sera on the shoulder, but my voice was serious, ‘you don’t need to live vicariously through me.’ I walked away, but then stopped, _making me real_. I trusted Sera, I knew she did good work, I turned back, ‘you’d better pay the man his money, and next time include me in your gambling’.


	14. A Day in Haven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lavellan has been having bad dreams and finally decides to try to do something about it, she spends the afternoon with Leliana making arrows. 
> 
> TW: Mention of burials

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some bits and pieces that didn't overly fit into other chapters, so I put them all together here :D

_It’s like the world has turned inside out, and I’m on the inside. The breach is the earth and the sky, and the emerald green is spreading. The globe is closing in, turning twisting, I’m trapped and claustrophobic. I can’t breathe, everything is green carving lightning lines across my vision. I’m in an eye, I think, a great green eye. A ball that is being thrown between two children and I’m tossed and trapped, tumbling through nothingness. I cry out, but no sound comes. Then my prison changes, the lines become self-assured, no longer lightning but fingerprints, carefully carved. I’m trapped in an iron sphere, and the eyes are watching me. Too many eyes…_

 

I am in a room, illuminated by the green glow of my left hand, I recognise it as Haven. I move to sit up, but I can’t. It’s like something is crushing my chest. I take shuddering breathes and look around trying to work out why I cannot move, cannot get up. I can see Sera’s sleeping form, but I cannot call out to her. I can feel the panic rising, I try to move again, but I can’t. The pain from my wrist is radiated up through my bones but I am powerless to do anything. Then slowly the feeling returns, like pushing through tar, and I am fully in control of my body once more.

With my unmarked wrist I make a warding gesture into the air, ‘leave me be and let me sleep.’ I hissed at the room, hoping my dreams will take note.

Grumpily, I look over at Sera who is still fast asleep, _thanks for all your help_! I turn over in my bed and massage my marked hand. I move my woven bracelet back over to my right hand, thanking the creators that it was me, here and now, and not one of my fellow hunters in my place. This is my bad luck, and I would shoulder it, but at least I knew they were safe.

I pulled the covers up and settled back into a restless sleep.

 

The next morning, I rose at dawn and dressed quickly and quietly. I worried the woven bracelet on my wrist and knew I needed to see the woman in gold and purple. I didn’t want to have this conversation, but I knew that I needed to. At the very least it might stop the bad dreams. Josephine was well-spoken and intelligent and a perfect diplomat, I reminded myself. There really was no reason to be intimidated. Be brave, little hare, I thought, as I pushed my hand through my sleep-tussled hair. I glanced across at Sera, she would sleep to midday at least. I slipped through the front door, shutting it quickly to ensure that I didn’t let too much cold in.

 

I stepped through the front doors of the Chantry once again and felt unsettled. I wasn’t sure if I’d ever feel comfortable in this building. I walked down the corridor and knocked on the door of Josephine’s office.

‘Come in.’ The clear Antivan ascent called.

I opened the door carefully, and Josephine looked up and smiled. There, I told myself, nothing to be afraid of. ‘What can I do for your Herald?’

The title bounced off me, like I didn’t hear it, ‘I had a favour to ask, something that would require some diplomacy, Ambassador.’ I added, following her fashion of using titles.

Josephine smiled, flashing her teeth, she motioned towards a chair on the other side of her eternally cluttered desk. ‘What can I do.’

I weighed my words, ‘if something _happens_ to me, I need you to send me back to my clan.’

Josephine’s eyes widened a little, but she schooled her expression, ‘that might not be possible,’ she allowed. ‘But What has brought this line of thinking on?’

I allowed myself a grim smile, ‘I fell down the side of a cliff,’ she gasped, ‘I’m alright. But I couldn’t help wondering what would happen if I wouldn’t be. I’m guessing the Chantry would want…’ _to claim my body_. I left the rest unspoken, I guessed she would know exactly what I was speaking of, the Andrastians loved a martyr.

Josephine picked up a pile of papers, shuffled then together and put them back down. The smiles were gone, ‘it might benefit our cause if…’ it seemed like she didn’t have the words either. To say it might be to ask for it.

I nodded solemnly, ‘if you cannot,’ I held up my right arm, showing her the bracelet, ‘you must send this back to my clan.’ I looked her in the eyes, they were fearful, ‘if nothing else. Promise my this.’

She inclined her head to me, ‘you have done so much for the inquisition, I will do everything in my power to ensure you wishes are carried out.’ She paused, ‘all of them.’

I stood, ‘thank you’ I paused for a moment, grateful that it was done, ‘I am sorry to have burdened you on this morning.’

Josephine stood as well, ‘your burden is our burden, Her… Hellana.’

I smiled. And left. I realised as I was walking out of the chantry, she had not questioned why I wanted this, she simply agreed. I realised I was shaking, I had been expecting a fight. But, I guessed it had gone suprisingly well. I hoped this conversation would stop my terrible dreams. As the adrenaline wore off, I realised I was exhausted. I stopped to sit by one of the stone seats and rested my head back against the grey stone building.

 

‘Herald!’ An unfamiliar male voice called, and I looked up, an elven man I barely recognised was approaching. He was bare-faced but seemed friendly. He sat down next to me, companionably. ‘I haven’t seen you since Val Royeaux, I haven’t had the chance to thank you.’

I stared at this man blankly, desperately trying to work out who he was. My head was still reeling from the previous conversation.

He smiled, ‘you don’t know my name?’ He questioned with a smile, ‘call me Mice.’

My eyes widened, ‘Mice?’ I questioned.

He laughed, ‘I um… was found as a stowaway, hiding ‘like mice’.’ He moved his hands like quote makes. I suddenly clicked that he was the merchant I had bought the statue of Mythal from.

‘I see, you look different without the…’ I waved my hands towards my face.

He nodded towards me, ‘I didn’t mean to cause any offence.’

‘It’s fine,’ I paused, ‘where did you find the statue?’ I realised in that moment that I wanted more statues. I hoped at the very least he could put me in contact with a clan.

He looked a little put out, ‘I made it?.’

I smiled, that was good workmanship. 'You made it?’ I clarified a plan forming in my head.

‘Of course.’

‘Do you take commissions?’ The morning was getting better.

A shocked expression filtered down onto his face, ‘what do you need.’

I laughed, ‘the other eight.’

He raised an eyebrow, but nodded and didn't question me further, ‘consider it done. Thank you Herald.’

He got up to leave, but I held up my hand curious, ‘wait...what have I done?’

He looked at me incredulous, 'you... got me out of Val Royeaux.’ He searched my face looking for something, he didn’t find what he was looking for. He bowed ‘I will start work on them today’ and he retreated. I watched him leave, grateful I was doing some good at the very least. I closed my eyes, uncertain of what the conversation meant exactly. I made my slow way back to my cabin and collapsed on my bed.

* * *

‘Hey, Hellana.’ I woke up, and Sera was prodding me in the ribs with a bony finger.

‘What you want?’ I asked with a rough voice.

She looked behind her, ‘it’s just past midday and Leliana’s looking for you?’ She said it liked a question.

‘ _Fenedhis_ ,’ I swore, and stood. Then I turned to Sera, ‘we make arrows, once a week. You can join us if you want?’

She raised an eyebrow.

I didn’t wait for her answer instead, I grabbed my jacket and left my cabin still pulling it on as I walked back toward the Chantry.

Once I got to the little courtyard, I noticed that our equipment was all laid out. I looked around, no one was looking at me. So, I simply sat down and started whittling the rough sticks into arrow shafts.

‘There you are,’ came Leliana’s honey voice.

I looked up from my work, ‘it’s been an odd morning.’

‘Yes,’ she sat next to me, ‘I’ve spent the morning going over Ben-Hassrath reports.’ She produced a knife and this time joined me in producing arrow shafts.

I smiled, I looked like Iron Bull had been honest for a spy. ‘Anything interesting?’ I asked.

She laughed, and smiled at me, ‘many things I will send my agents to investigate, nothing you need to worry about… so far.’

I raised an eyebrow, ‘you will tell me if there is.’

She nodded. And we fell into silence as we worked. After a few hundred heartbeats, I looked across at her, ‘I have a favour.’

She put down her tools, waiting.

‘Can you get a message to my clan?’ I glanced around, ‘with no one else knowing, it’s a… an odd situation.’

She looked towards the Chantry building and then back to me, ‘I can.’ She sounded apprehensive.

‘Thank you, I will write in elvish,’ I warned, ‘but I’ll give you a translation of course, I understand you need to read it. But please keep it private.’

Leliana looked at me curiously, ‘May I ask what the matter is concerning?’

I looked down at my hands, ‘information.’ I daren’t say more.

‘Of course.’ And we continued in silence.

 

The sun was moving into the late afternoon when I saw a pair of yellow trousers come into view, I looked up, ‘Sera?’

She dropped down, so she was stood one moment and sat cross legged the next. She picked up a feather and passed it between her hands. ‘Ugh,’ she offered, ‘Want to come to the tavern after this?’ I could tell she was getting bored at tetchy.

I straightened my back, stretching out the tightness in my muscles. ‘Leliana?’

‘Please, go.’ She said not looking up.

I laughed a little, ‘you don’t want to join us?’

Leliana looked up in surprise, ‘you want me there?’ She flushed.

‘Of course,’ I said mimicking her solemn tone from earlier.

She seemed tense but agreed.

 

The sun was low in the sky and I walked towards the tavern with Sera and Leliana, without meaning to I found myself humming to Sera was Never,

Sera hit my shoulder, ‘piss it. Creepy song is creepy.’

I laughed, head back, ‘at least it is catchier than Leliana’s tune?’

‘What?’ Leliana hissed.

I rubbed my eyes with my hands, ‘seriously?’ I asked back. ‘The Nightingale?’

Leliana looked between the two of us. A frown fell over her face, ‘Maryden.’ She hissed.

‘Ants in her bedroll?’ Sera announced with a glee.

‘No,’ I snapped and grabbed Sera, spinning her to face me, ‘promise me, promise me, you will not put ants in anyone’s bedroll.’

Sera frowned and pulled away from me, she looked me up and down. ‘Fine no ants.’

I rolled my eyes, ‘or insects of any kind!’

‘Fine.’

‘I don’t know what the two of you are complaining about, I am the only one without a song!’

Sera and Leliana looked at each other and speed off, ‘no! Don’t be mean to Maryden!’ I shouted into the night running after my fellow archers.


	15. The Singing... um... Maiden

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A night in the Singing Maiden. Everyone gets a little too drunk and high stakes bets are made. The next morning, hangovers and regrets are bound.

That night we drank, Leliana shared stories of her days working as a bard, Sera recounted tales of the Friends of Red Jennies adventures and I gave up some of the secrets of my childhood. We were quite a few drinks down when Leliana turned to me, ‘I see you’re copying my hood now?’ She said, barely slurring at all.

‘Of course!’ I replied sweeping my red hood back in one gesture, ‘don’t you think it makes me look mysterious?’

Sera make a rude noise and started laughing.

I pouted at her, but our conversation was cut short by fists being pounded on tables. I looked over at the racket to see the Iron Bull drinking with a handful of his chargers, I suspected someone has said something amazingly funny as they were falling about laughing, and Grim managed to knock Dalish’s drink on the floor and in the centre of it all Krem was as red as highever weave.

Sera perked up, half standing, half wobbling to her feet, ‘let’s go join them!’ She announced and Leliana and I exchanged an apprehensive look.

‘Boss, Red,’ he paused, ‘Sera.’ He said it a little like a question and I laughed into my cup despite myself. ‘Sit, drink with us!’

The three of us crammed onto the edge of the bench as the chargers shuffled up. ‘We just talking about Maryden,’ Dalish offered.

‘Did she write a song about you too?’ Sera demanded, as Krem begged, ‘please stop.’

Sera took in a deep breath and her eyes filled with glee, I rolled my eyes, girl needed to stop meddling in other people’s love lives. I was struck by inspiration, so I tried to interrupt, ‘so Sera, how is what’s her name?’

‘Aurora? She’s good, I mean was really good, it’s not serious. It’s over. Just some end the world getting to know you.’ She waggled her eyebrows, then she laughed a little too loud. She turned to Krem as though I’d never spoken, ‘So I guess it would be not be a problem if I...’ she paused dramatically, ‘dared you to go ask Maryden to join us?’

Krem looked back uncertain and drained his cup.  

She turned to Bull, ‘I’ll bet you ten gold they do it by the end of the month.’ I suspected if Krem had any drink left he would have spat it across the table. I laughed, lending on Dalish’s shoulder to keep my balance on the bench.

Bull raised an eyebrow, ‘I would not bet against one of my men.’

‘Fine, I bet you they don’t.’ Sera said barely pausing for breath, ‘Krem don’t ask her to join us.’

Krem opened his mouth a couple of times, and I enjoyed that his usual eloquence had disappeared.

‘Ten gold, that’s a hefty sum, how do I know you’re good for it?’ Iron Bull asked Sera suspiciously.

Sera took off her boot and slammed it on the table, it jingled. She upended it spilling coins, feathers, fluff and scrunched up bit of parchment into the table, she reached over and counted the coins out.

Grim got up, grunted, then left.

‘I’m good for it’ Sera said pushing all the junk back into her boot.

Iron Bull considered, and then pulled his own money purse up from his belt. Pulled out the same amount and shook hands with Sera across the table.

‘Is this another one of your bad jokes?’ Krem demanded unimpressed, but still extremely red.

An idea hit me, ‘here,’ I pushed one of the coins towards him, ‘go get some liquid courage.’

He begrudgingly took the coin, and got up, then a little smile crossed his face, ‘I’m keeping the change!’

Sera grabbed his hand, she narrowed her eyes at him, looking menacing, well as menacing as an elf in plaidweave trousers could look, she glanced down at the coin in his hand, ‘we’ve bought details, you have to tell us, right?’

He pulled his hand away, and looked to Iron Bull for back up, but Bull just shrugged.

Krem looked a little pale but left to get a drink.

I couldn’t help it, I just burst out laughing, I lay my head down on my arms. ‘This is fun, I can see why you all bet.’

Sera and Bull looked at each other, and back to me. ‘New bet?’ Bull asked with a very large smile.

‘Save me!’ I said turning to Dalish, she just held her hands up to say keep her out of it.

‘Who are we speaking of?’ Leliana inquired.

Sera turned on her, eyes wide. ‘Hellana’s got a thing for baldy.’

Dalish squirmed in her seat, ‘I don’t like the look of that one, something’s just…’ she shrugged, seemingly unable to put her feelings into words.

I looked around at the faces, Leliana was a picture of despair and disgust, while Bull looked back steadily and unjudgingly, Sera on the other hand had gold coins glittering in her eyes. I felt my cheeks burn and I felt my stomach drop. I rounded on Sera, ‘I did ask you to stop betting on me.’

She shrugged carelessly, ‘you said to not do it behind your back, so we’re going it in front of you.’

Iron Bull sat forward and put his head in his hands to survey me, ‘by the end of the moon, I’ll bet, Hellana will make a move.’ He pushed a pile of coins towards the centre of the table.

Sera sat back, and started laughing, ‘look at her, all serious. She’s got it bad,’ she turned to Iron Bull and raised her glass an inch, ‘she will, but next month.’

I looked between the two, and then rubbed my eyes touching my _vallaslin_ as I did. Expecting salvation, I was disappointed when Leliana added her own small stack of coins. She considered carefully, ‘I bet against you both, Hellana will not.’

I followed my arms, and then smiled. I reached down into my pocket and slammed my own bet, ‘I won’t.’  

‘That’s cheating!’ Sera declared and looked around, ‘it is, right?’

I did my best impression of her careless shrug in response, and then I made a face at her, ‘don’t worry’, I winked at her, and placed my hand over my head in mock sincerity ‘you’ll be the first to know.’  

‘You’re missing it.’ Dalish hissed, and we looked up in unison to see Krem approaching Maryden.

The spoke quietly, and I strained to here. Sera hushed us, even though none of us were speaking. He handed her a drink, which she took with a nod and set it by her feet. Then Maryden laughed, and then kissed his cheek. Krem returned in triumph to our table, he turned to Sera, ‘Maryden was very accommodating…’

‘Details.’ Sera demanded.

‘I told her you loved the song and she agreed to play it every hour from now own.’

In the background I heard Maryden began, ‘Sera was never an agreeable girl…’

Sera slammed her cup on the table, ‘shitballs, crap… arse.’

* * *

The next morning, my head was utterly pounding. I groaned as I sat up, I vaguely remembered the night before, but no real details. I looked up and Sera’s bed was empty.

I lay back and closed my eyes, cursing myself because I knew I should get up and find water.

I woke up a little while later as a bedraggled Sera crashes through the door. She lay on her back with the door open giggling. I shivered at the draft, and Sera rolled onto her front, holding up her head on her hands. ‘You’re fun, last night was fun. We should do it again.’

‘What time is it?’ I grumbled.

‘Mid-afternoon.’ She kicked the door closed with her foot and pulled herself onto the bed. ‘Varric got back this morning and is pissy that he missed it.’

‘Wish I had’ I mumbled under my breath, ‘any water?’ I asked hopefully. A second later a waterskin hit me on the head, the cork fell out and mostly freezing water drenched me. I shrieked and sat up.

Sera rolled around the floor laughing.

 _Elgar’nan give me strength_ , I stood and stripped off my sodden night clothes. And then looked around to find where I had discarded my clothes the night before. I noticed Sera was watching me intently, so I threw the damp shirt at her.

‘Piss,’ she swore, rolling onto her front and throwing my shirt on the floor.

I grabbed it up in one motion and folded it over the back of a chair to dry, ‘you’re feral, you know that.’

She gave me a toothy grin.

I rolled my eyes, gave up searching and pulled on new clothes.

 

Haven was sleepy this mid-afternoon. I rubbed my eyes, had everyone been drinking the night before. I trudged through the town to get to the frozen lake by the outside of town. On the banks of the frozen lake, I sat down crossed legged and pulled the little dagger out of my boot, I stabbed at the ice until I could get to the fresh water beneath. I cupped a handful up to my face and made a squeak as the cold water hit me.

Someone approached, ‘herald?

My head pounded even more as I heart Solas’ voice. _Fen’heral take him,_ I thought unkindly, he certainly had a knack of appearing at the most opportune moments. ‘Apostate,’ I greeted in return, earning me a smirk.

‘Did you have a good night?’

‘It was… a night.’ I answered, cupping more water to my wash my face. This time I felt more awake, I just needed food and I would be a person again.

‘I see, your rendition of _Mir Da’len Somniar_ , was… creative.’ He looked amused.

I rubbed my eyes, ‘what are you talking about?’

He laughed, ‘last night, you are Sera were singing loudly on the steps of the Chantry.’

‘Oh creators!’ I buried my head in my hands.

He sat down next to me, ‘Sera was singing dirty drinking songs, Mother Giselle and Cassandra were most impressed.’ He added sarcastically.

‘Stop.’ I moaned into my hands.

‘It is a beautiful song, though sung with a quicker tune that most would put it to. I haven’t heard that song for many years.’

I looked across curiously, surprised by his openness. I responded in kind, ‘my mother taught me it, we don’t know what it means.’

He nodded, I noticed his ears twitch, ‘it is difficult to translate.’

‘You can translate it?’

He glanced away, ‘of course.’

‘Will you show me?’ I asked elated.

He nodded, ‘if you will tell me why Sera kept shouting, ‘come back in a month’ at me last night?’

‘I… um… couldn’t say.’ I lied. _Fenedhis_.


	16. Something to Write Home About

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bad dreams give Lavellan a reason to write to her clan for more information.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little bit of a shorter one, hope everyone enjoys! 
> 
> Translations at the end.

My quill made an ugly little scratching sound on the parchment as I frantically wrote. I imagined Keeper Deshanna reading it and tutting at my poor handwriting, but it was difficult to write when my hand flared with green pain every few minutes. My candle was burning down, and I knew I left for the Hinterlands in the morning, I scribbled quicker to make sure it would be ready. When I was done, I sat back and read what I had written,

 

_‘I survived the explosion at the Temple, but there is a great tear in the sky. It was very bad. I was captured by the shem but they let me go and gave me a title ‘Herald of Andraste’._

_I am scared and unsure, but physically well. I dream that I will be back home soon. I long to be away from the green breach. Pray for me. Please would you send me a prayer cloth, unless it is forbidden? Do send me news of the clan._

_Your faithful hunter, Hellana._ ’

 

I went back through, and added little accent marks over the words, _bad - dreams - green - orb - send - news_. It was a simple code that would hopefully go unnoticed, until it got into my Keeper’s hands. Solas had mentioned that the mark might be related to an object of some kind and the dream where I was trapped in an orb had brought back a memory from many years ago. Hunter Dehnan had come back from scouting mission to an ancient elvhen ruin, the bones in his arm had been shattered and he had run for two days and nights. He had a wild look in his eyes and he moved like a feral animal, he had been whispering about a purple orb. He saw eyes watching him in the darkness and awoke in the middle of the night for months afterwards. Then one day, he dropped everything he was doing, dropped to the floor and begged forgiveness for ever touching the orb. He left the next day and I haven’t seen him since. I knew that Keeper Deshanna had looked for information about the orb, but I didn’t know if she’d found anything.

If they were the same orb, I knew that the Breach would lead back to the elves, and suspicion would once again fall upon me, so I daren’t say anything until I had more information.

I was copying the note out in Trade for Leliana when there was a knock at the door, it made me jump out of my skin and it took me a moment before I was calm enough to say, ‘come in’.

Solas appeared, and I smiled, ‘ _Aneth ara_ ’ I greeted but he seemed distracted.

‘I have the translation for you.’ Solas announced without preamble.

I stood, ‘you do?’ I breathed, excitement bubbled up in me. I took the page he held out to me and scanned the page. The words I knew swam together with words I didn’t, and it became clear. ‘This is perfect,’ without thinking I hugged him. He was still for a moment before pulling me tight. I was struck once again by how much taller he was than me, and that he smelt of firewood and forest. I pulled away slightly, though still close enough to touch to read the words he had written again, his script was elegant and flowing, as if he had painted the words rather than written them. The translation made too much sense, ‘it is as if... I always knew what it meant, the words click, but I know I didn’t know it before’.

‘It seems you can feel the rhythm of the language, without having the vocabulary’. He said looked down at me curiously, his arm was still around my waist.

I smiled, ‘ _ma serannas_ … do you mind if I send a copy to my clan?’

His arm withdrew from my waist and I felt the distance between us again, ‘why?’

I shrugged, ‘they should know.’ I said firmly, ‘and I’m writing home now. Might as well have one good thing to come of all this’, I spread out my hands in front of me.

He glanced over at the letter that was by the candle stub and I had to resist snatching it up, I cursed myself to mentioning it, he might be the only person in this town who could work out the code. But his eyes didn’t linger, and I silently thanked Dirthamen.

‘... one good thing?’ He queried instead, looking smug.

I looked at him steadily, ‘hunters spend their whole lives searching for treasures like this, and you just hand it to me. I don’t know if I can ever repay you… where ever did you find this?’ But before he had time to form an answer I laughed at my own stupid question, ‘let me guess, you found it in the fade’.

‘You can see many things exploring the fade.’ He replied steadily.

‘This is…’ I shook my head unable to find a good enough word. ‘Thank you’.

‘ _Ara melava son’ganem_ ’.

The archaic phrasing made me pause for a moment, but of course, I reasoned, if he’d learned elven from the fade it would be Elvhen not Dalish. I looked up at him, a coy smile lingering on my lips. I made to step closer…

The door was thrown open, and I froze, ‘Pissing Reverend Mother just gave me a lect…’ Sera looked between us. ‘Pffffft, get a room.’ She threw herself on her bed.

‘ _Fenedhis lasa_ ’ Solas practically growled.

I covered my face with my hands, a nervous laugh erupted from my chest, half at the situation and at Solas’ unexpected words.

‘Of course, you would be fluent in profanity.’ I peeked through my fingers and he was watching me, eyes racking up across my body. I made a tiny noise, between a squeak and a moan. A smug smile played on his face ‘I should go and get ready for tomorrow,’ he inclined his head to me, and sent a scratching look towards Sera, before he left.

The door shut, and Sera let out a long whistle, ‘Well, that was the worst thing I ever saw.’

‘Shut up.’ I snapped, though I didn’t dare to look at her. I sighed wistfully and sat down to finish my letter in the dying light.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Elvish Translations
> 
> Shem - human  
> Aneth ara - informal greeting  
> ma serannas - thank you  
> Ara melava son’ganem - my time is well spend/ you're welcome [Constructed - thank you Project Elvhen!]  
> Fenedhis lasa - strong curse, probable translations. A possible translation - https://bohemiantea-scorpiocoffee.tumblr.com/post/185920111781/fenedhis-lasa


	17. Mushy Time I

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> My take on In Hushed Whispers. In this chapter Lavellan goes to Redcliffe town, experiences some weird things happening with time and meets a rather dashing Tevinter.

The skeletal creature appeared out of a gap in the very air, it yawned sluggishly at me and it’s wide gaping mouth blew rancid breath on my face. I let off and arrow aiming for its brow, but no arrow appeared. I looked down at my hand, but my vision didn’t change. I only saw the terror demon crawling out of the fade like it was emerging from syrup. Then the arrow was between its many eyes and I was on my knees on the ground, my shoulders in agony. My body moved without any conscious thought and I was thrown across the ground, I saw the gates of Redcliffe pass by in a blur. I braced myself for the pain, but it didn’t come. Heartbeats trickled by and I realised I still hadn’t hit the ground. I saw a blast of blue go past my vision, each brilliant bright blue tendril creep forward, like snowflakes forming in the air, angular and sharp. Solas has cast some kind of freezing magic, and the cold spread from his staff in little jumps hopping across the air in a jaggard criss cross pattern. It caressed its target, and then jumped under its skin and exploded, the tendrils spread into the body of the demon before us and then another heartbeat passed and it turned into a white blur and I smashed into the ground.

My ears rung and my head was turning in circles. The fade rift was pulsing oddly, but I couldn’t work out why I was so dizzy. Bull was over and pulling me to my feet, I tasted copper. I closed my eyes for a second and stepped forward raising my left hand. Pain radiated through my arm, but the green magic that should have jumped from my arm simply didn’t. It was like an electric shock up my arm, my muscles screamed. The usual brief spark was a lightning storm in slow motion. I pulled my hand back to my side, which lagged in the air resistant to return to me.

I felt the fear creep up my spine, I couldn’t work out what was going on. But the rift needed to be closed so I shook my hand and tried again this time a bolt shot so quickly that it knocked me off my feet. The rift exploded into the air around me with a satisfying pop.

‘That was weird, right?’ Sera announced, rubbing her eye as a dark angry bruise formed. I winced in sympathy.

‘It was,’ I agreed.

‘Are all the rifts like that?’ the unfamiliar voice asked. It belonged to a grey warden named Blackwall who we had found being abused the morning before on the other side of Lake Luthias. He didn’t overly looked like a grey warden to me, as he wasn’t wearing the uniform. But he seems pleasant enough, and him and Sera got on like a aravel on fire.

‘Demons sure, the mushy time is new.’ Sera answered him.

‘Solas, what do you make of it?’

He was looking around, eyes narrowed, ‘the veil is weak here, but not weak. Altered in some way I have not seen before.’

I nodded, despite his words being as helpful as whatever ‘mushy time' meant.

The iron portcullis rattled upwards and an elf approached us, ‘Herald,’ he greeted in a strange accent that I didn’t recognise. ‘We were not informed that the inquisition would be coming.’

I glanced at my companions, unsure of what to make of these new events. ‘Grand enchanter Fiona invited us…’ I said slowly.

The man gave me an odd look, ‘well, Magister Alexius can be with you shortly, if you’re looking to negotiate, the tavern would be the best place. He will meet you there. I will also ask the _former_ grand enchanter Fiona to see you there as well.’ He gave me a slight bow and retreated.

‘Strange. It was Fiona we meet in Val Royeaux, right?’ And I realised only Solas had been there before. But he agreed with me that it had definitely been her. I felt uneasy, something was odd in the air of Redcliffe. Although the day was bright and clear and scent of the lake was heavy in the air.

As we walked through the imposing stone gates, I paused for a moment pretending to adjust my boot. With my other hand, I sketched a quick glyph on the stone. _Ghilan'nain, I beg you, guide me back out_.

Blackwall waited for me, ‘I have to ask… are you sure we shouldn’t leave right now?’

I puffed my cheeks and let out a slow breath, ‘no.’

He sucked in his lip, ‘least you’re honest.’ He gave me a grim smile and we headed towards the tavern.

* * *

‘Well Sera’s note was ‘an obvious trap’ which turned out fine.’ Solas argued,

While Blackwall spat back, ‘Well I wouldn’t have gone.’

‘We have to do something,’ Sera whined.

I sat between the two of them on the grass facing out at the docks. The crumpled note in my hands. The tavern had turned out to be an extremely odd encounter, the grand enchanter, former grand enchanter, I corrected myself, appeared to have no recollection of ever meeting me. Either she had a twin sister or she was an extremely good actress. I couldn’t work out what she would gain by pretending that we hadn’t met. Maybe she was ashamed, _an elf willingly swearing her people to be slaves to Tevinter_. The very thought made me sick to my stomach. The Magister himself was a different matter, he seemed cocky and arrogant, happy to gamble with other people’s lives. I wanted to stab him in the eye, I did not want to negotiate with him, maybe I could send Josephine to play diplomat?  

I sighed and rubbed my eyes, then I looked down at the paper again, ‘why is it always, _go to the chantry?_ ’ I muttered, unheard by my companions who were still arguing pros and cons. I stood then, ‘well I’m going to see,’ I looked towards Blackwall, ‘you don’t have to come if you don’t want to.’

Poor man, his face dropped. I realised I had damaged his pride. But he puffed out his chest and said steadily, ‘I will go with you, my lady.’

We began to make our way towards through the town of Redcliffe, Blackwall and Sera dropped behind a little way and I heard Sera say to Blackwall, ‘Tevinters everywhere. Uggg, Tevinter must be rubbish.’

Blackwall seemed to cheer up, and by the time we arrived the steps to chantry, the two had decided that everyone had left Tevinter because it smelt of rotten fruit and damp socks. I rolled my eyes, but wished I felt so calm.

The chantry building itself was smaller than I expected, more like a little house with a high roof. Though it wasn’t like I was any expert of what chantries were supposed to look like. We pushed open the doors and were greeted by a tall Tevinter beating a demon on the head with a staff, with a rift pulsing green in the background. I stood frozen for a second, whatever I had been expecting this wasn’t it.

‘Good, you’re here. Help me close this?’ The man asked.

 

Once the demons were arrowed and the rift had been closed the man turned to me. He had a curled little moustache a coiffed hair that I suspected he spent far too long in the morning perfecting, but in response I couldn’t help feeling a little self conscious. We’d spent the week camping and it had been months since I’d been properly clean and longer still since I’d seen a mirror.

Though it didn’t appear that I had anything to worry about as a smile spread across his face, revealing sharp white teeth, ‘how did you do that?’ He asked.  

‘Well, I think of bunnies…’ I started solemnly.

He laughed, ‘you have no idea do you?’ He cut me off and I raised my eyebrows. ‘You just waggle your fingers and the green just shoots out.’ His tone was incredulous, but his eyes were serious. He gave me a deep bow, ‘Dorian Pavus, recently of the Minrathous.’

I ground my teeth together to stop me from saying something rude. I was meeting far too many Tevinters today. ‘And what about, um,’ I rolled my hands, ‘Felix?’

‘Ahhh, yes, he will be arriving shortly.’

We stood in silence for a second. ‘So, why are you…’ I let the rest of the sentence hang in the air.

‘Alexius used to by my mentor, so my assistance should be valuable.’ He tilted his head, and then glanced around at my companions.

I held up my hands, ‘wait, wait, so why would a magister…’

He sighed dramatically, ‘I will only say this once, I’m a mage from Tevinter, but not a member of the magisterium. Honestly, you Southerners use the terms interchangeably. Makes you sounds like barbarians.’

My hand tightened into a fist at my side at the term barbarian, but the moment passed and I knew what to do, I simply scoffed at him. ‘Southerner? Hardly, I’m from the east. Can’t you tell by my accent,’ I gave him my best smile, and with a horrible approximation of his accent I finished, ‘honestly, it makes you sound like a moron.’

For a split second, I could feel the air get tense, and then Dorian bent over laughing and leaned lightly on his staff. The sound echoed off the chantry walls.

I smiled too and reached out a hand in the _shem_ fashion, ‘Hellana Lavellan,’ I said as he took my hand, then I pointed back, ‘Sera, Solas, Blackwall. Agents of the Inquisition,’ I finished grandly.  

‘Well, Hellana Lavellan,’ he stumbled slightly over the multitude of ‘a’s and ‘e’s, ‘you must know you’re in terrible danger. Alexius has stolen the rebel mages out from under you, as if by magic? Well, it is magic. To reach Redcliffe before you, he distorted time.’

I turned around and nodded to Sera, ‘mushy time, good shout.’ I congratulated. She stood taller and stuck out her tongue at Solas, who ignored her.

‘Fascinating. And if that is true, it is certainly dangerous.’ Solas commented.

Sera snorted, ‘sometimes you’re so helpful.’

Dorian gave a little cough, to bring the attention back to himself, ‘the magic that Alexius is using is wildly unstable, it could unravel the world.’

I was attempting to form a reply to that piece of news, but I was saved as a door behind us swung over and an out of breath Felix stumbled through. He held up his hand in greeting to us.

Dorian moved over to help the other man, his face was full of concern, ‘took you long enough.’

Felix shook him off gently, ‘I shouldn’t have played the illness card, I thought he’d be fussing all day,’ he gave to Dorian by way of explanation. ‘My father’s joined a cult. Called the Venatori, they’re Tevinter supremacists. He’s messed with time to get to you, wanted to make sure you didn't fix the hole in the sky. With it open, this time magic is possible.’

‘Which is just what we need,’ Dorian’s voice was droll, ‘a hole in the sky and a hole in time. Matching pair, very fashionable.’ Then he surveyed us, ‘not that you lot would know anything about that.’


	18. 'Vint's in the Woods

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dorian agrees to join the inquisition and has a fun first night camping. Lavellan and Dorian get drunk and try really hard to not argue.

I reached over to my pack and pulled out a couple Crystal Grace flowers, their perfume filled the air and I laid them gently on the fire. The incense filled the air and I silently thanked Ghilan'nain for getting me out of Redcliffe. Solas glanced up from his work, his mouth in a thin line as he watched the flowers become consumed by flames. Then he shook his head and returned to marking little symbols on a map of the Hinterlands.

I looked around at my companions, Sera was dosing on her back, her head resting on a log with a poultice of elfroot covering her bruised eye and Blackwall was polishing his sword with a whetstone.

I needed to be busy, I could feel the panic of the day rising up in my chest and I knew I had to distract myself. I felt distinctly uneasy, the waterfall by the camp was usually soothing, but tonight the loud roar from a half a hundred paces away made me keenly aware I couldn’t hear well enough. _We could be ambushed. At any moment, masked mercenaries would jump off the cliff above us. If they failed, they could just go back any try again_. I felt sick. _Don’t look at the cliff. I commanded myself. Get busy. Don’t think about it._ I commanded myself. I had already considered that we should leave this particularly camp, but I had asked Dorian to meet us here tonight. _You shouldn’t have done that. What if you just gave your location to the enemy._ I pushed my hands together trying to ground myself. Controlling my breathing, _slow and steady._

Blackwall swore loudly, which pulled me out of my internal panic. He dropped his sword and whetstone. There was blood running down his hand. He stormed off towards the stream to clean his cut. This was going to be a long afternoon.

* * *

‘Herald’, In the darkness an inquisition agent pulled a struggling man forward, I could barely make out the silhouettes. ‘Found this one sneaking around.’

‘Really take your hands off me.’ A clipped Tevinter accent pierced the night air.

‘Dorian?’

He sighed slightly, ‘what suspicious friends you have.’

‘Let him go.’ I commanded.

The agent unhanded him, and gave him back his staff. Dorian huffed, but took it and moved towards me. l I could see him in the stark light of the embers, his hair was a mess and he looked decidedly unimpressed.

‘You made it here alright?’ I asked, passing him a waterskin.

He dropped himself heavily crossed legged next to me and dropped his staff on the ground next to him, ‘only a little scorched.’ He pulled the cork out of the waterskin, took a swig and spat the water back out on the ground. ‘Anything stronger.’

I rose to my feet and headed over to Sera’s pack, which was discarded on the ground outside her tent and pulled the bottle out from the side. I replaced it simply with three gold coins. ‘Scorched?’ I queried settling back down and handing him the bottle, ‘I can’t promise it is any good.’ I cautioned.

He smirked but took a sip. And then scowled, but continued drinking. ‘Ran into a dragon nest. Perfect end to a perfect day.’

I let out a little gasp of disbelief. I looked into the burning embers and piled a few more twigs on. The fire burst back into life and illuminated us both. Turned back to see that Dorian’s sips were more swigs. I tutted at him, ‘share.’

He froze, mid swig and looked at me for a long moment, as though I was a particularly difficult word puzzle. He pulled a hand through his hair. Finally, he had the decency to look guilty and he passed me the bottle. ‘What next.’ He asked, but it didn’t sound like a question.

I raised the bottle slightly, ‘we stitch up the sky.’ The spirit burned as I drunk it, but at least it took the edge off the chill.  I passed the bottle back to him.

‘To stitching up the sky.’

We drank in companionable silence for a long time. Eventually I yawned, stretching my arms over my head. I caught him eyeing up my _vallaslin_.

‘So…’ He started a little unsure and took another sip, ‘you’re Dalish?’

I laughed a little and pulled my hair out of my face, ‘yes. As opposed to what?’

He looked a little uncomfortable. ‘We don’t have clans coming up northwards, for obvious reasons.’ Oh, yes. I had forgotten he was from Tevinter, and I shifted a little nervously, I took the bottle, but it was empty. Grand. ‘I’ve never meet one of your people before, though I’ve heard…’

I groaned internally, I definitely didn’t want to have this conversation right now. I knew I wouldn’t be able to hold my tongue on the treatment of elves in Tevinter and I needed all the allies I could get. ‘Dorian.’ I cut him off, I pointed towards one of the tents, ‘that one is yours. There’s bedrolls and basic kit in there. Let me know if there’s anything else you need. We didn’t know how much stuff you would bring.’ I congratulated myself on my civility.

‘It’s a bit small,’ he mumbled.

I rolled my eyes, ‘sorry it isn’t a mansion in Minrathous.’ I snapped before I could help myself. Then I took a breath, ‘forgive me. That was uncalled for.’

‘Was it?’ He wasn’t looking at me. ‘I must be the big scary mage from Tevinter.’

I chuckled, ‘a little dramatic. I thought you were here to help us against the ‘big scary mages from Tevinters?’’

‘The Venatori’, he corrected lightly walking back over to the fire and warming his hands.

‘Thank you,’ I said honestly, ‘for helping us. It’s very brave of you to stand against your own countrymen.’

‘Or very foolish.’ He said in a tight, low voice. I saw Cassandra’s words flash before my eyes, _a fool, a traitor and a madwoman._ Dorian placed his hand lightly on my shoulder. ‘Goodnight.’ He turned and left for his tent and disappeared.

I rubbed my eyes and briefly touched the _vallaslin_ on the top of my cheeks. _Shem_ were difficult, I considered, all that power and politicking makes men face make difficult choices. I considered my own clan, and concluded that people needed to be well feed and feel safe before they turned on each other. The fire was burning low again, and I lay back to look at the stars. I traced the constellations with my finger and for a split second I was back with them. The roar of the waterfall was just the chatter coming from the _aravel_ and I was in a different forest very far to the north.

* * *

The night crept on and when it seemed about time, I stood and walked over to Blackwall’s tent. He was snoring loudly. I shook the canvas lightly, ‘time for you watch.’ I called as quietly as I could, but I heard the rugged grey warden wake with a start. I left and sat by the fire.

Blackwall emerged pulling on his dark armour and crouched next to me lacing up his boots. ‘Any sign of the perfumed magister?’ He asked in a rough voice.

‘Arrived a while ago’. I said nodding at the tent.

He spat on the ground and grabbed the waterskin that was on the ground near me ‘I don’t trust him.’

I nodded, crinkling up my nose ‘you don’t have to.’  Although I wasn’t entirely sure that I didn’t agree with Blackwall’s sentiment.


	19. Package and Paint

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The events that unfolded during a little stop off at Haven before meeting Alexius at Redcliffe Castle. Lavellan learns more about the orb that she has seen in her dream.

‘Sister Leliana sends her regrets, she didn’t realise this was personal correspondence.’ An agent said as he handed me a little parcel. The seal has been broken, but it had been tied back together with string. I was completely sure that Leliana would have opened it regardless and I was about to give the agent a piece of my mind when I spotted the hand it was written in, ‘it’s alright,’ I mumbled. I made my way back to my cabin. I wasn’t expecting a response so quickly, it had taken me months to get from home and yet I had got a reply in less than a fortnight. I clutched the package to my chest and it smelt faintly of good earth and wood-smoke. I felt my heart clench in homesickness. I raced back along the frosty path to see what had been written.

_Hellana,_

_It is good to see your words. We had heard reports of the green hole in the sky but hadn’t been able to gather any more information than that the Temple had been blown up. We feared the worst and a marker was created for you, it has been taken down now of course. The clan is well, and better now we know that you are safe._

_Be brave, little hare; only Ghilan’nain knows the path you will tread. I have sent you a prayer cloth, it is not forbidden. Please know that I pray for you every day._

_Thank your friend for the translation, I will submit it at the Arlathvhen at the end of summer._

_Deshanna._

My mind reeled, Solas’ translation was important enough to be submitted at the _Arlathvhen._ They were the great gatherings of the clans that happened once every ten years. The Keepers shared any knowledge that the Hunters brought them, and clan-wide laws were decided upon. I had never been important enough to attend. I tried to picture what it would look like, but my mind couldn’t conjure that many elves in one place. I tried to contain my excitement, but the Hunters that brought back important knowledge were honoured at the meetings, maybe I could go. I had to stop myself from spinning around, I had recognised that the translation was important, but I would never have guessed it was important enough that Deshanna would want to take it. The one good thing to come out of this mess, maybe the _shem_ would burn me, but the clans would remember my name. I looked into the rest of the package and a large frayed cloth was folded in the paper envelope. I went cold and remembered why I had messaged my Keeper in the first place. I scanned back through the letter checking for any code;

_information-fear-mark-created-for-Ghilan’nain-orb_

I sat down slowly at my deck. The memory hitting my like an avalanche. The pulsing lavender mark spreading up Dehnan’s leg. He’d screamed that it was his punishment for breaking into the sacred space, for breaking into the temple of Ghilan’nain. I stood staring at the words in horror, then my mark flared at that moment as if I could forget it. He had touched an artifact of the gods and gone mad. I felt sane, I considered, but then how would I know. Though it did seem like I touched an orb and the world went mad. I breathed deeply, and flexed my left hand, wondering how I could possibly survive this.

‘What are you doing?’

I jumped, Sera was behind me with her hand on her hip. She craned her head to see the letters but rolled her eyes when she saw they were not written in Trade.

I lifted the letter for her inspection, ‘from home.’ I said by way of explanation.

Sera looked unsure for a second, ‘you look sad’, she announced and then took my hand, ‘let me buy you a drink.’

‘Please, but just don’t let me sing.’

‘Pffft.’

I looked down at the letter in my hand, ‘actually can I meet you there? There are a couple of things that I need to do first.’

She raises her hands to, ‘your loss!’ And she bounced off in the direction of the Singing Maiden. I pulled the cloth out properly and laid it out on the table. It was a frayed piece of stripped red cloth which I imagined would have once been an _aravel_ sail. It had been embroidered with little sigils belonging to the nine gods. I traced my finger over Mythal’s and touched my _vallaslin_ at the same time, _get me home great mother_.

I tied up the cloth and hung it over my headboard. I glanced over at Sera’s bed and smiled to myself, she would throw a fit, that is, if she knew what it was. _Maybe I just wouldn’t tell her._ I smiled at my own cunning. I tucked the letter under my pillow for safekeeping and considered my next move. I reached under my bed and pulled out a little wooden box and I thanked the creators for my foresight.

Snow was lightly falling, and I shook my red hood to stop it melting on me. Once again, I was stood outside of his door in the cold. _Be brave little hare_ , I heard in Deshanna’s voice and I knocked on the door. Solas greeted me at the door, he smiled warmly and placed his arm around my waist guiding me inside. ‘What can I do for you?’

I pushed my hood down, ‘I brought you this, I just wanted to thank you again, I heard back from my clan, the translation you did for me...’ I shook my head in disbelief and stopped rambling. I handed him a little box and he took it from with a little bow of his head. ‘It’s the least I could do’.

He glanced up and opened with little wooden box with careful fingers, he lowered his finger gently inside and it came away with a streak of orange on his fingertip. He rubbed the pigment with his thumb, the colour waved between pale yellow and deep ochre as he turned his hand in the light.

‘Drakestone orange… it’s paint.’ I bit my cheek, nervously waiting for his reaction.

A slow smile crept across his lips, his eyes lit up, ‘thank you.’ I had to smile, for someone who could translate from elvhen he certainly felt no need to prove his skills. ‘Your clan was happy, then?’

I nodded, ‘overjoyed. Its going to be submitted at the _Arlathvhen_ , it’s like a meeting where the clans share knowledge,’ I shook my head, ‘I probably don’t need to translate for you.’ I looked up at him and suddenly became very aware that the last time we had been alone I would have kissed him but for Sera’s timely interruption.

‘You don’t’ he breathed.

‘With any luck, the clans will probably be talking about this for a thousand years.’ I added proudly.

He flinched away from me like I’d burnt him. My heart lurched in my chest. ‘I am afraid I have work to do.’ He pointed at the door.

I opened and closed my mouth wordlessly, ‘I’m sorry,’ I stammered, unsure how what I said could have caused offend. But I took a step towards the door anyway. ‘We’re meeting in the tavern tonight, you’re welcome to join us.’

‘Try not to embarrass yourself again.’

I rubbed my eyes, he was unnervingly changeable. ‘I’ll do my best’.


	20. Redcliffe Castle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The gang get to Redcliffe Castle. Lavellan is having a bad day, and it's about to get a whole heap worse.

We left Haven at dawn for Redcliffe Castle. I kept my eyes on my reigns, still not feeling completely confident on a horse. I had always trusted harts to get me where I wanted to be, but horses, I had no idea what would happen if I let my mind wander. In front of me Dorian was having a heated conversation with Iron Bull about the conflict on Seheron. Behind me Cassandra and Solas were discussing Andrastian politics and the economics of the chantries. I slumped in the saddle, bored out of my mind. I wished Sera had been able to come, but she was allegedly still recovering from the outing in the Hinterlands. I even would have happily traded my left arm for Varric’s comforting charm and easy wit. But, no, I was stuck with this lot, and it didn’t help that Solas hadn’t spoken more than half a handful of words to me in the two days since I’d left his cabin. I sighed heavily and patted the neck of my horse, Betsie, hoping that we’d get to the castle soon.

 

I was in a foul mood by the time we arrived at the Castle. Cullen had warned us that it was the most heavily defensible fortresses in Ferelden, and now I saw it I could see why. The building teetered on a cliff and could only be approached by the one direction, over a thin grey stone bridge. I took a deep breath, at least I was good for a distraction.

Dorian gave us a quick bow and left to find Leliana’s agents. I turned to Bull, ‘good chat?’

Bull cracked his knuckles, ‘he’s good with his tongue, but he talks a lot of crap.’

‘I see’, I laughed and dismounted.

Our little group dismounted and headed across the great grey stone bridge and up the winding path.

* * *

Great wooden doors swung open to allow us entrance to the keep, masked guarded lines the courtyard.

‘I’ve got a bad feeling about this, boss.’ Bull mumbled.

I nodded at him but didn’t risk saying anything. A man in gold and while approached silently and indicated for us to follow him. He was one of many dressed in the same way, guards, I concluded. I looked around, the castle complex was much bigger than it had appeared as we had approached. The smell of leather and ash in the air was oppressive. It was made of local red stone and combination with the grey dusty ground and the effect was eerily like being trapped on a candle wick. Only the vast blue sky above convinced me not to turn a run. I clasped my wrist, toying with my woven bracelet, _be brave, do what needs doing, get out._ I told myself. Cassandra drew up close on my right-hand side, I saw her fingers twitch twice towards her swords as we crossed the courtyard.

By the doors to the castle proper, a new man approached us, ‘Herald of Andraste.’ He sneered at me, and it was oddly comforting to find another person who did not believe I was the herald. ‘The invitation was for you alone,’ he gave my companions a dirty look, ‘the rest will wait here.’

I was about to tell him that there was no chance that I would continue alone, when the man glanced behind me and gulped audibly, he gave me a look that I could only interpret as _please don’t let the qunari eat me_. ‘Right this way,’ he said cowed.

I glanced back to see Cassandra and Solas share a smirk, and Bull looking a little too pleased with himself. I gave him a little smile and turned to follow the man.

We entered the audience chamber, it was a large room with pillars lining a central walkway. In front of us Magister Alexius was lounging on a chair in front of a great lit fireplace, with Felix at his side looking a little nervous. The walls were lines with more white and gold clad guards, and I knew we were heavily outnumbered, I just had to hope that Leliana’s plan would work. I suddenly spotted Grand Enchanter Fiona, she was almost hidden in the shadows of the one of the pillars. Her face was drawn and grave.

‘My lord Magister, the agents’ he spat the word, ‘of the inquisition have arrived.’

Magister Alexius tented his fingers, surveying us. ‘My friend.’ He drawled, ‘it is good to see you again. And your… associates.’ He slid his hands apart, and grasped the arms of his throne, ‘so you’re here for the mages. I’m sure we can reach an equitable agreement.’ He pushed himself to his feet.

‘Are we to have no say on our futures?’ Fiona demanded from the shadows.

I turned to her voice as she stepped into the light, she looked thinner than when I had seen her the week before, her cheeks hollow, eyes dark. ‘If the Grand Enchanter would like a place at these discussions, she is welcome. As a guest of the inquisition.’

Fiona bowed her head to me and gave me a little smile. Alexius, though looked murderous, I stepped slightly to my right, indicating that I was extended my protection to Fiona.

Alexius schooled his face, ‘Fiona, you turned your followers over to me, because you trusted me. We can hardly go back now.’

Fiona stiffened and I pitied her.

‘So,’ Alexius asked, sitting back on his raised throne, ‘what do you have to offer for the service of the mages?’

I laughed a little, ‘surely you’ve noticed the hole in the sky?’ I asked pointedly.

Alexius shrugged, but Fiona added, ‘we would like to help.’ Alexius glared at her, his lip twitched.

Alexius sighed, ‘Fiona, your mages belong to me. Herald, you do understand there must be an exchange.’ He idly picked at his nail.

Felix moved towards the throne dropped to his knee, his hands on the arm of the chair, ‘father they know.’

Alexius’ eyes darted towards his son, his eyes wide in disbelief, ‘what have you done, Felix?’ He began to rise.

‘Your son is concerned you are involved in something terrible.’ I said stepping forward.

The magister stood and took a step forward, ‘so speaks the thief,’ he spat. ‘You come here, with your stolen mark, a gift you barely understand and seek to turn my son against me!?’ He took two steps down from the dais, ‘you are nothing but a mistake.’

I sucked in a breath, and I felt Cassandra shift her weight besides me. I raised my hand, showing off the green tear in my skin ‘if you know so much why don’t you enlighten me?’

‘It belongs to your betters.’ He practically snarled.

Felix stood, ‘don’t you know what you sound like?’

‘Like one of those villainous clichés, everyone expects us to me,’ Dorian added as he strode into the room. I closed my eyes, _why were these Tevinter’s so damn dramatic?_ Though it seems to have the desired effect as Magister Alexius looked physically wounded, he retreated up the dais, ‘Dorian?’ He gasped, but then his features hardened, ‘I gave you a chance to be a part of this, you turned me down. The Elder One has great powers, soon he will become a god.’

I snorted, _that was the dumbest thing I’d ever heard._ Alexius gave me a withering look, but continued, ‘soon, he will make the world bow to mages once more. We will rule all of Thedas.’

‘You can’t involve my people in this.’ Fiona shouted in outrage.

‘Why would you want this, father?’ Felix asked in horror.

Dorian stepped forward, ‘this is exactly what we talked about not wanting to happen.’

‘Please, give up the Venatori,’ Felix stepped forward, talking his father’s hand. ‘Leave the Southern mages to fight the breach, we can go home’.

Alexius softened, and took Felix’s hands, ‘this is the only way I can save you.’

Felix shook his head violently, ‘save me? I’m going to die and there is nothing you can do.’

‘No, the elder one promised, if I undo the mistake at the temple… seize them.’ He commanded.

I spun expecting a fight, but the Venatori guards fell to the ground, each of them had been given a dagger in the back by an inquisition agent. I turned away from the bloody mess, ‘surrender, Alexius.’

Instead, he pulled a pendant from his neck, ‘you should never have interfered.’ He snarled, as the pendant glowed blue-white and began spinning in the air.

‘No!’ Dorian called, sending a pulse of purple lightning at his former teacher. The pendant exploded and Dorian turned sheltering me from the explosion.

* * *

My boots filled with ice cold water and I squeaked in alarm.

‘Who is down there!’ A man’s voice called roughly.

I was blind, but looked around anyway, I tried to access the damage, but it didn’t appear that I was wounded. I pulled my bow off my back and tried to aim towards where the voice had come from. I heard a splash to my left and I spun around, hitting something.

‘Ouch.’

I wrenched my bow away, I’d almost shot him, ‘Dorian?’ I queried the inky blackness.

‘Lavellan?’

‘Yes, who else is here?’ Silence.

My eyes were beginning to adjust to the darkness, it was some kind of sewer perhaps. ‘What do you think happened?’ Dorian asked.

‘Alexius’ pendant.’

Dorian hissed, ‘the amulet. It’s probably not what Alexius was intending, he appears to have moved us.’

‘Blood of the elder one!’ A guard hissed, illuminating the room with a touch. Not a sewer, a dungeon. I thought grimly as I struck him with an arrow. He fell back into the ankle high water, extinguishing the touch and pitching us both into darkness again.

‘Are we still in the castle?’ I asked.

I heard Dorian crouch and dip his fingers in the water, ‘if we are, we may have moved through time.’

‘Time?’ I croaked.


	21. Emotional Support Dorian

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A retelling of the In Husted Whispers Quest, part one!  
> Lavellan is thrown back in time and is not happy about it.

‘Time?’ I croaked. I thought about praying, but I was deep underground. They gods were too far away to hear. I touched my _vallaslin_ anyway.

‘The only question,’ Dorian continued, ‘is if we have been sent forward or backwards in time.’

‘Good question.’ I muttered and we started moving forward. The water was getting deeper, and the cold was creeping up my legs.

‘I don’t want to know what this has done to the fabric of the world, we haven’t just been sent through time, but rather punched a hole in it.’

I stopped and lent up against one of the stone walls, _this wasn’t happening,_ I was struggling to catch my breath. I was too far underground for a start.

Dorian came over and put his hand on my shoulder, ‘hey, hey. You’re okay. We’re okay.’

I took a few more shuddering breaths, ‘we’ll get back right?’

He gave me a worried look and he fiddled with a buckle on his shirt, ‘of course.’

I stood straight, and stretched my spine, ‘you’re very convincing. It just seems insane.’  

‘Yes,’ he said grimly, but perked up almost immediately, ‘of course, he threw us into the rift before he was ready. He charged up the amulet and I countered it, landing us here. He won’t know we are here, giving us the element of…?’

‘Surprise.’

He laughed, ‘exactly. Come on, let’s get out of this water before we freeze.’

We made our way through the little room and turned a corner to find a pulsing red mineral growing out of the wall, I reached out to touch it, but Dorian used his staff to knock my hand away. ‘Better not touch the glowing things growing out of the walls.’

I flushed but nodded. At least the red stuff was giving off some light. I gasped in realisation, ‘what about the others in the hall, do you think they are alright?’

Dorian stood back, ‘I doubt the rift was big enough…’

I doubled over, with my hands on my knees, _this was far too much._ My chest was tight, I couldn’t breathe, _I needed to get outside_.

‘Hey, hey’, Dorian said again, he pulled my shoulders back making me stand. ‘Breathe.’ He audibly gulped in air and I raised an eyebrow at his patronising tone. ‘You try.’

I scowled at him but did as commanded.

He moved his hand slowly back and forth to let me know when to breath, it worked surprisingly well. He gave me a dashing smile, ‘I’m here, I’ll protect you.’

I answered with a high-pitched whine.

His smile faltered for a second, and then he took my hand and led me down a corridor until the floor sloped up and we were finally out of the water.

We turned a corner to move into a little room with two doors either side. ‘Do you have a coin?’ Dorian asked.

‘Right, I have a less bad feeling about that direction’.

Dorian snorted, but we went right. The door opened up into iron barred cells. The red mineral was in all of the cages, we walked along. ‘There are no guards.’ Dorian mumbled.

As soon as he said that were heard a voice and both froze. I strained to hear, it appeared to be someone reciting an Andrastrian prayer, I nodded to Dorian, and we crept closer. With my bow in my hand and a ‘prey’ to find, I was feeling a little better, but I had to actively stop myself thinking about why we were here.

There was a man, in one of the cages, illuminated by red. He didn’t see us or notice us and didn’t break from his prayer even when we questioned him. I sighed and turned around to see another empty cell. Wait. It wasn’t empty. I rushed forward, ‘Fiona?’

Her body was forced up against the wall with one leg off the ground, the red material had grown through her. I clapped my hand to my mouth.

She turned her head slowly towards us, grimacing while she moved. ‘How are you here?’ Her voice was quiet, but it had an echo to it. Like nothing I had ever heard. ‘I saw you die in the explosion.’

I glanced at Dorian, he took a step forward. ‘It’s very important, what is the date.’

She looked confused, ‘it is dark down here, but I believe it is around Harvestmere, 9.42. Dragon.’

Dorian looked back to me stricken, ‘we’ve missed a whole year.’

I didn’t want to hear that, so instead, I turned back to Fiona, ‘how can we get you out.’

She smiled sadly, ‘you cannot. It is red lyrium. When you are around it long enough, this happens to you. When you die, they mine your corpse.’

I gasped horrified, my hands flailed uselessly in front of me, trying to find something I could do, anything to correct this. ‘We’ll stop this, _lethanllan_.’ I called her kinswoman as a promise, there was nothing I wouldn’t do for my clan.

‘ _Lethanllan_?’ She tasted the unfamiliar word and the smiled, her eyes closed, ‘ _lethanllan_ , help me save my people.’ She slumped down as if her body was heavy, ‘Alexius is powerful, his master, the elder one, he’s more powerful than the maker. No one who can gone up against him had lived…’

‘First time for everything,’ Dorian said to me.

‘Your spymaster, Leliana, she’s here.’ Fiona voice was cracked and weakening, the unworldly echo growing stronger. ‘Find her.’ She gasped.

‘Thank you, Grand Enchanter.’ I said, wrapping my hands around the bars.

She nodded. ‘It has been too long since anyone called me that…’

 

The rest of the cells turned out to be a dead end. So we went back to the little room with two doors, ‘I have a bad feeling about this.’ I said.

Dorian snorted, ‘a bad feeling. Goodie.’

I gave him a scowl and opened the door. Six guards looked up, ‘ _Fenedhis_ ’ I swore as I nocked an arrow onto my bow.

Dorian’s was shooting purple lightning at the guards, it races along the wet door electrifying all six at the same time. I had to admit, I was impressed.

Once the guards had been dispatched, Dorian reached down and grabbed a large metal loop with keys hanging from it, ‘what do you reckon these open?’

I sighed, ‘we’re going to find out, aren’t we?’

‘Where is your sense of adventure, Herald?’

I shuddered, ‘ugg, don’t call me that.’

He sobered a little, ‘if you wish. Come along, not-Herald.’

I smiled, it would do.

 

We ventured down another corridor in the maze of a dungeon. I held my hand out, ‘what’s that.’

‘I don’t hear anything.’ Dorian whispered back.

I held up a hand, ‘singing?’ I queried and ventured towards the sound.  

‘…The light shall lead us safely through the paths of this world and into the next. For she who trusts in the maker, fire is her water...’ Came the sweet voice through another wooden door.

‘Cassandra,’ I hissed and kicked the door, expecting it to break down. It didn’t. I bounced off the door ending up on the floor.

I heard Dorian swallow a laugh and simply get the keys he had looted out. He tried them until one fit, turned the lock and reached down to help me to my feet. I scowled at the door but was distracted the moment I saw Cassandra.

She looked bad, she was sat in a cell. She was thinner were she had lost muscle, and her eyes were covered in a red fog. I dropped to my knees. ‘Cassandra?’ I gasped.

She titled her head looking at my curiously, as if I might be a figment of a dream. When I did not disappear, she moved closer wrapping her hands around the bars. ‘The end is truly upon us if the Maker is bringing people back to life.’

I glanced back at Dorian, ‘we’re not dead. Not yet at least. Thrown through time.’ He explained.

‘I am sorry, I have failed you, Andraste forgive me. I have failed all of you.’ Cassandra was covered in tiny red pulses, it was like watching fish darting to the surface of a pond, except there was no water and no fish, only red streaks making themselves known for a moment. She was infected with the red lyrium.

I took the keys off Dorian and started finding one that fit the lock. My fingers shook, but as I worked, I noticed my woven bracelet. I touched it with my marked hand. _I couldn’t reach the gods, but my clan was with me_. I found the key and the door swung open. ‘We’re not dead, we’re going to try to go back and stop this.’

Cassandra stood invigorated, ‘then there are some things you will need to know so that we can make sure that none of this will ever take place. The elder one, he assassinated Empress Celene. In the chaos that followed a demon army swept through Orlais. Nothing stopped them, nothing.’

‘We will stop them.’ I swore.  

* * *

‘I think they are keeping Leliana down here,’ Cassandra said directing us down another winding corridor, Dorian gave me a look. I felt like we were going around in circles. But we followed anyway, until we came to a new door. Cassandra scrunched up her face, ‘I, I can’t remember.’ She smacked the wall with her palm.

Dorian moved to comfort her, as I unlocked the door. I glanced in, no guards.

‘Don’t touch me.’ Cassandra hissed.

Dorian jumped back, ‘forgive me.’ He said, hands in the air.

‘I’m infected.’ She said by way of apology. ‘If you’re going back in time, I cannot risk infecting you.’

Dorian nodded.

‘Solas!’ I called, spotting him and rushing towards a cell. I heard Dorian and Cassandra running after me. I gasped in horror, when I saw him. He looked worse than Cassandra, his eyes were practically glowing with the red mist and he had a large crystal of red lyrium growing out of his side which had torn through his clothing.  

He turned at once in alarm, ‘you’re alive.’

I nodded, ‘I am.’

‘We saw you die.’ He insisted.

He reached for me and I reached back, Cassandra smacked his hands, while Dorian pulled me back. ‘She isn’t infected.’ Cassandra hissed at him.

Dorian gave a little cough, then explained ‘Alexius’ amulet, he displaced us in time. We just got here so to speak.’

‘And can you reverse the process.’ Solas demanded without even looking at Dorian. ‘You could return and obviate the events of the last year…’ His voice echoed as he spoke, and my heart cracked to hear it.

‘Boss?’ an echoed voice asked from behind me. I spun around, not seeing anyone… and then. I grasped Dorian’s arm to stop me from swaying. I sucked in an unsteady breath.

‘Bull?’ I gasped. He was more red lyrium than man.

The qunari, was attached to the wall, red lyrium spikes had formed out of his left knee, had ripped holes in his back and a large shard was in place of his damaged eye. He roared and ripped his body away from the wall. I took a step back in fear.

‘Let’s get the ‘Vint bastards who did this.’


	22. Mushy Time II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> My take on In Hushed Whispers, part two.  
> Lavellan meets up with Leliana again, and they face off against Alexius.

Bull’s lip twitched as he stood in the doorway of his cell. ‘Let’s get the ‘Vint bastards who did this.’

Dorian huffed a little and said ‘venatori’ under his breath. ‘We’re plan to find Alexius and go back in time to stop this from happening.’

Bull turned to Dorian, ‘isn’t not Alexius you need to worry about, he works for this Elder One. He murdered the empress and sent out a demon army, have you ever fought a demon army.’

‘I haven’t.’ Dorian acknowledged.

‘Wish I hadn’t.’

‘I already told them,’ Cassandra added.

‘The guards talk about Alexius barricading himself in the throne room.’ Solas said, returning the topic to the problem at hand.

‘So we will go to the throne room’, Cassandra confirmed and then considered, ‘but we don’t have any weapons.’

I took a deep breath, ‘Fiona told us to find Leliana.’

Bull and Solas exchanged a glance and then looked to the direct we had not come from. ‘She is,’ Bull began, ‘she had been…’

‘Mistreated.’ Solas finished for him grimly.

‘Let’s go get her then.’

* * *

‘There’s no use for this defiance little bird, there’s no one left for you to protect.’ A man’s voice from behind a door at the end of the long corridor. I felt sick at the sound.

Iron Bull cracked his knuckles and glared darkly at the door, I unslung my bow from my shoulder.

‘You’re wasting your breath.’ The voice continued.

I pulled the keys out and went to unlock the door, but it swung open in my hands. I looked along the wall, horrible metal instruments were lined up, some were clean… and some were not. Then I saw her, Leliana looked ages, but I realised her wrinkles were thousands of tiny scars, scars upon scars. She locked eyes with me.

The in front of her turned around and gave a little cry of alarm to see us. He took a step back and Leliana lifted herself up, locking her thighs around the man’s neck. Two heartbeats later, he was on the floor.

‘You’re alive.’ She gasped and I ran to her.

Stepping over the torturer, I uncuffed the Nightingale carefully so that I wouldn’t touch her. ‘We are, we were thrown forward in time.’

She looked me up and down, and then over to the rest of our group. ‘Do you have weapons?’ Leliana went over to a chest, took a bow and quiver for herself and began handing out weapons to the rest of the group.

‘We plan to get back, so this never happens, never happened.’ Dorian was explaining.

The Left Hand stood and cut him off with a sharp gesture, ‘enough, this is all pretend to you, some future you hope will never exist. I suffered, the whole world suffered. It is real.’ She stood fierce and unapologetic.

‘So what’s been happening since we’ve been gone.’

‘No,’ Leliana snapped, ‘you don’t want to know. You’re only talking to fill the silence.’

Leliana had none of the signs of red lyrium poisoning, but they’d had broken her in a different way, she was hard and cruel now in this future. I wanted to hug her and tell her that it would all be alright, but I expected if I did, I would find a dagger in my side. The only way to make this right was to go back. ‘So how do we find Alexius?’

Leliana gave me a little nod, ‘this way.’

 

Leliana directed us through corridor after corridor, until we arrived at the audience chamber. As we burst through the door, Alexius barely looked up. ‘I expected you would turn up.’

There was a twisted man at his feet, breathing heavily and looking thin.

‘Was it worth it?’ Dorian demanded, stepping forward to face his former mentor. ‘What you did to the world, was it all worth it?’

Alexius looked to the man at his feet, then to Dorian, ‘you wouldn’t understand, I did it for my country. I did it for my son. But it doesn’t matter anymore.’

Dorian scoffed, ‘it does matter.’

The Magister titled his head, as if he couldn’t understand Dorian’s words. ‘All we can do is wait for the end.’

‘No, father.’ The man at Alexius feet croaked weakly.

‘Felix.’ Dorian gasped.

And in that moment, Leliana was behind Felix dragging him to his feet. Her dagger was at his throat. Felix sagged in her arms, alive but not really.

‘No, not my son, I will give you anything.’

I stepped up to the dais, ‘give us the amulet in exchange for Felix.’

Alexius turned to me, a piteous creature, all fear and despite. ‘Give me Felix and I’ll give you what you want.’

I turned to Leliana, but her eyes were on Alexius. ‘I want the world back’. She drew the dagger across Felix’ throat and he dropped to the ground.

Alexius screamed and slammed his staff into the ground, the pulse of energy threw me back down the steps. I stumbled to my feet to see that Leliana had been thrown into a wall.

‘Leliana,’ I heard Cassandra cry behind me, and she was rushing to help her.

Bull’s roars filled the air. Metal clashed against armour.

Lightning and ice were thrown back and forth across the room.

Leliana and I rained down arrows.

It was six against one and the battle didn’t last long.

* * *

I reached down and pulled the amulet from Alexius’ neck. I moved over to Dorian, I put my hand on his upper arm, and Dorian looked at me. ‘He wanted to die, all the lies and justifications.’ Dorian turned to look at Felix then closed his eyes tightly. ‘He lost Felix long ago and he didn’t even notice.’

Silently, I handed him the amulet, and he nodded. ‘Give me an hour or so.’

‘They are coming,’ Leliana shouted. I looked up in alarm, and I could hear a dull rumbling in the distant. ‘You have as much time as I have arrows.’

Cassandra set her face in grim determination and went forward. Bull almost looked happy, he ran forward the red crystals shuddering with every step, leading the charge.

‘Wait, Hellana, there is something you need to know.’ Solas said grimly, he was only a pace away from me. He was breathing heavily, and his shoulders were shaking.

Leliana grapped his arm, ‘there is no time.’ She snarled. Dropped him and went forward towards the building tumult.

Solas look stricken, he stared at me for a long moment. Then pulled his pendent off his neck, snapping the leather and held it out. I reached for it and he dropped it into my hands. He looked at me, and then his jaw set and he bowed his head. He took a breath and turned.

I reach out for him, but Dorian had seen and pulled me away, ‘no, no!’ I cried.

Solas looked back, and I could see he know what was going to happen. The breath left my lungs in a rush and pain twisted in my stomach. _Come back, don’t go!_

I fought against Dorian to let me go, but the human was stronger. He turned me round so I was looking at him, ‘we’ll save him, but stopping this.’

I bit my lip, and supressed a sob, I nodded. Then turned to see Solas leave. I stood, numbly, waiting, unable to process what was happening. The heartbeats ticked by and I didn’t move, then the mob had reached us, metal on stone and howls echoed around the throne room.

And then it all disappeared in a flash of blue-white light.


	23. In the Year 9.45

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dorian didn't quite have enough time to get them safely back to the past, so they've gone forward?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feel free to skip this chapter if time-travel mischief isn't your thing, there's no major plot points in this chapter. Only a little bit of a hint of things to come! I tried to be quite subtle with this chapter, but there should be enough clues to work out what is going on, enjoy! - Hezjena xx

****

My mark flared up, screaming, scorching pain that trailed up through my bones. I hissed and dropped to my knees cradling my arm against my body. Our arrival was greeted with an audible gasp.

‘Inquisitor!’ 

‘It’s her.’ 

‘Is it?’ 

‘Is that Dorian Pavus?’

An echo of overlapping voices sounded around me. I looked up to see a woman approaching, she was tall, with dark eyes and an Orlesian mask covering her face. ‘Inquisitor?’ She asked gently, I didn’t recognise her. I glanced up and she was definitely talking to me, I looked across at Dorian who gave me a  _ go with it _ look. ‘Yes?’ I answered more of a question than anything. 

She curtsied low to me, ‘forgive me my lady, we were not expecting you this evening.’ 

_ My lady? _ I twisted my neck to see if there was anyone behind me, there wasn’t. I had a horrible feeling she was talking to me. I dug my nails into my wrist willing the pain to go away, but it was like there was a rift here somewhere and my mark was reacting to it. ‘Where are we?’ 

‘When are we?’ Dorian asked. 

The woman stood, and looked between the two of us, ‘you are in Redcliffe Castle. It’s Wednesday, the 14th Harvestmere, 9.45’. 

I looked to Dorian, ‘we went the wrong way.’ I hissed. He nodded. 

‘My lady,’ the masked woman asked, ‘will you be joining us for dinner?’ 

I noticed we were surrounded by dinners, almost fifty people, mostly humans, some elves and a handful of dwarfs, were looking up from half eaten meals. The audience chamber had been filled with two long tables on each side of the pillared walk way and the dais was filled instead with some kind of shrine, flowers and fruits were piled up before an icon of a deity I didn’t recognise. ‘We really should be going.’ I stammered. 

‘Please,’ she urged, her hands were clenched tightly by her side, ‘to say I have dined with the inquisitor is something I can tell my grandchildren about.’ 

I looked to Dorian, who shrugged. ‘Then yes.’ 

The woman snapped her fingers, and two serving girls came running. ‘Set two places, by me.’ 

She led us over to a grand dining table, a magnificent place setting was laid in front of both of us. I was sat with the lady on my right, and Dorian on my left, opposite me was a portly man with little beady eyes. His face was flushed and his eyes raked over my  _ vallaslin,  _ ‘I thought you got rid of them’. He slurred in my general direction. 

‘Father.’ The woman chastised, ‘forgive him.’ From his pained expressed, I expected that she kicked him under the table. 

‘Lord Pavus,’ she turned to Dorian, ‘I do believe we have never had the pleasure, I am Thedore, the current Mistress of this Castle, my wife is currently away.’ 

‘Ahh, Thedore,’ Dorian took a wine glass and raised it to her, ‘it is good to meet you at last.’ 

She gave him a winning smile, and then turned back to me. ‘And better still to meet you again.’ 

‘Is it true?’ Thedore’s father blurted, he was watching me with his wine glass in his hand. He looked away for a second to snap his fingers. A woman ran over to fill up his cup. 

I tilted my head, ‘yes?’ I guessed. 

The man bellowed and slapped a hand down on the table, ‘I told you Thedore. I told you.’

The mistress of the castle looked uncomfortable, and shifted in her seat. 

Her father picked up some kind of bone off his plate and jabbed it at me, ‘that’s why they call you the whore of the gods, first Andraste, then…’

Thedore stood, ‘enough.’ She took the bone from him and dropped it heavily on the plate. The room went silent and I could feel the eyes on me. ‘Don’t you think it is time to go to sleep father?’ She wiped her fingers angrily on a napkin.

The old man grumbled but left the table.

Dorian was smirking at me, I buried a sigh, I wasn’t going to live that one down any time soon. 

Thedore, laid her napkin on the table and turned to us. ‘I am sorry. He’s not adjusted well.’ 

I had no idea what that was supposed to mean, so I nodded. I took a breath, ‘I am feeling a little, lightheaded. May I take a walk in the open?’ 

The masked woman’s eyes flashed with fear through her mask, ‘Again, my apologies inquisitor, that won’t be possible.’ 

‘Why not?’ Dorian asked. 

‘I told him you were here. He’s on his way.’ She straightened her shoulders, ‘enjoy the meal. Please don’t try to escape.’

I could only stare at her, then I rubbed my eyes.

Dorian played with a fork, ‘if he’s coming, may we have a room to prepare?’ 

Thedore nodded, and clicked her fingers. Three armed guards appeared. ‘Please escort our guests to their chamber.’ 

* * *

We were shoved roughly into a small threadbare room, the heavy door slammed shut behind us. I turned to Dorian, ‘how did you know her?’

He shrugged, ‘didn’t.’

‘Well then that was some quick thinking,’ 

‘Wouldn’t be the first time someone's tried to imprison me during a party, the trick is to let them think it’s your idea.’

‘What?’

‘Doesn’t matter,’ he said waving a dismissive hand at me, ‘the question is, do you want to stay and try to find out more about this ‘he’ or try to get back?’ 

I slumped down onto a bench, ‘we have no idea if its the elder one or something else and we can’t just keep bouncing through time. But, that woman was scared out of her mind. If we can, let’s leave.’ 

‘Agree,’ Dorian pulled the amulet out of his pocket. ‘If we can,’ he scoffed under his breath. 

I racked my hands nervously through my hair, watching his experiments. My mark had toned down to a dull throbbing ache. I dropped my hands, and something jabbed me from my pocket. I pulled out Solas’ pendant. I felt my heart lurch, my friends were gone. I wrapped the leather strap around the bone and clutched it tightly. 

Dorian looked up, ‘no, no.’ He sat down next to me, ‘come on, we’re going to get out of here. It didn't happen.’ 

‘I remember it.’ 

‘A bad dream and nothing more… wait… dream...’ He twisted his hand in the air and it erupted in flame, he turned to me open mouthed, ‘I didn’t used to be able to do that. Something is wrong here.’ 

I packed the pendant safely into the bottom of my quiver, so that it wouldn’t jab me anymore. And tried to push the scenes from my mind. I looked up, another stone ceiling. 

‘The veil is gone.’ Dorian stated shocked. 

‘What? How can it be gone?’ 

He shook his head, ‘just is… but it might just give us the power boost we need…’ The amulet began spinning in the air. ‘Let’s go home.’ He said confidently. 

I nodded, then remembered Thedore’s fear.  _ It is real.  _ I heard Leliana’s voice say. ‘Wait, give me your handkerchief’. 

Dorian pulled a face, but handed me the clean strip of linen. ‘You’re the only person I know who has their name embroidered on these.’ I folded it, and placed it on the bench next to me, I pulled the knife out of my boot and cut a lock of hair from the back of my head. I knotted it and placed it on the bench. That way, Thedore wouldn’t be accused of helping us escape. ‘Just in case.’ I shrugged. ‘Let’s go home.’ 

Dorian pouted, ‘that’s my favourite…’

‘I’ll buy you another one.’ I promised and Dorian caused the amulet to spin again. 

He smirked at me, ‘whore of the gods?’ He reached out his hand. 

I gave him a withering look, but took his hand.

The amulet exploded in a flash of white-blue light, and I saw the door to the little room begin to open. 

‘ _ Iseshena! _ ’ 

I turned towards the sound. But the room was gone, blinked out of existence. 


	24. Under the Sky

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lavellan tells the group about what happened in the future, at least some of it.

We were back once again, in the throne room, I looked around. _Everyone’s alive again._ Alexius just stared in horror, we appeared to have jumped a couple of paces across the room moving onto the dais with him.

‘How did you…’ He stammered.

‘Your plan didn’t work.’ Dorian said coldly, and surprisingly calmly.

It took me another moment to readjust, ‘surrender.’ I managed to croak out. Although it seemed to do the job as Alexius fell to his knees.

I glanced at Dorian, I couldn’t believe that worked. At least we wouldn’t have to fight him again. Inquisition agents moved forwards to arrest him. ‘I did it for you, Felix, to save you.’

‘Everyone dies, father.’ Felix replied simply.

I swayed a little on my feet, the adrenaline was starting to wear off.

‘Well, I’m glad that that’s over,’ Dorian announced, and no sooner had he finished speaking the doors to the audience chamber were thrown open. ‘Or not,’ Dorian grumbled.

* * *

I covered my mouth with my hand to hide my yawn, it was barely late afternoon, but in reality, I’d been awake for what felt like three days. It was difficult to tell with all the time jumping. The Feraldan King had arrived to ensure that Grand Enchanter Fiona had no choice but to accept an alliance with the inquisition. He had invited us to stay the night, but I had refused him, much to Dorian’s disappointment. I knew I couldn’t spend another moment in Redcliffe Castle. We were halfway back across the grey stone bridge when Cassandra accosted me.

‘You shouldn’t have given them an alliance.’ She demanded.

I rubbed my eyes, ‘So we save the rebel mages from indentured servitude to Tevinter to… what?’

She huffed, ‘that isn’t what I meant.’

I nodded, ‘what did you mean?’

Cassandra turned away from me to gaze back up at the castle, ‘it’s difficult. The circles are there for a reason.’

I glanced around, and the others gave us some space. I stepped up next to her, ‘but they were unjust.’  

‘So we should just fix the whole world?’

‘If you didn’t want to change anything, you should have let the chantry take me.’ I said, my words sounding far more defiant that I actually felt.

To my great surprise Cassandra nodded, ‘you’re right. I should not doubt you, you did well. You made a decision when it needed to be made.’

I didn’t have anything to say to that, nor for her to come around quickly. I gave her a quick smile which she returned and then she returned to the group. As she did Dorian gave me a look, I approached and sighed. ‘I know we need to tell them.’

‘When we get to camp?’ He suggested.

‘Good plan.’

* * *

By the time we got to camp I was ready to drop, though I had managed to overcome my mistrust of horses as I didn’t have the energy spare to worry about what Betsie was doing. I sighed, there was a lot to get done before I could sleep.  

I built a campfire and Bull busied around me fetching logs to make rudimentary seating. I paused for a moment with my flint in my hand and had to steady myself. When I saw Bull, the image of his body covered in red lyrium made me feel sick. We had to stop that future. It took me a few heartbeats, but I pushed the image from my mind. I knocked the flint against a rock, sending sparks onto the dry kindling. Once the fire started burning, I settled down into a routine I had maintained since childhood. With each stick I added, I recited another line of the campfire prayer;

_O, crowned Sylaise, guardian of the hearth, whose light rivals Elgar’nan’s light._

_May your light give me sight._

_O, crowned Sylaise, mistress of fire, whose breath rivals Andruil’s spear,_

_May you guide me through darkness._

_O, crowned Sylaise, she who burns brightly, whose fire cannot be quenched._

_May your fire warm me._

I looked up at the night sky, sparkling constellations dotted the inky abyss. It felt good to be out in the open again, with the air on my skin and the gods watching from above. Once the fire was burning well, I sat back on the one of the logs. I waited for my companions to finish their duties and settle down by the fire. I looked to Dorian, ‘there’s something we need to tell you.’ I began steadily. ‘The amulet didn’t just move us across the room, it moved us in time. We know what’s going to happen.’

There was uproar. Dorian held out his hands calling for quiet.

‘You are certain you experienced time travel?’ Solas asked first. I couldn’t look at him, I didn’t dare. I didn’t want my mind to remember the horrible image of him infected with red lyrium.

‘Pretty sure.’ I mumbled at the ground.

‘Confident.’ Dorian confirmed.

Cassandra sat forward, ever the tactician ‘so did you find out anything useful?’

‘Yes, so we have a big bad. ‘The elder one’. He’s trying to become a… god.’ I said with thinly veiled disgust. I pulled off my woven bracelet and twisted it between my fingers.

Bull laughed, ‘Alexius mentioned this.’

I looked at him, _he ripped his red lyrium body away from the wall,_ I dropped my eyes to the floor, feeling light headed. ‘Sorry.’ I muttered, my mind was already blending the two throne rooms.

‘The elder one is going to have empress Celene assassinated, which will throw Orlais into chaos,’ Dorian picked up for me, ‘once everything is nice and chaotic, he’s going to send a demon army to ravage what’s left.’

Bull clicked his knuckled, ‘not fond of demons.’

Cassandra laughed so hard her head tipped back, ‘who is?’

‘We got sent forward again, it was like the breach was everything. It was like the air itself was a rift. It was as if the veil had been torn down.’ I said looking at my hand, which gave off wisps of green light.

Silence.

‘At least, pulling from the fade was easier, I used it to get us back.’ Dorian added, he twisted his hand in the air, no fire. He looked a little disappointed.

‘Maybe, if the breach spreads it will tear through the veil itself.’ Cassandra suggested.

Dorian nodded, ‘that was my thought.’

‘So if we close the rifts and stop empress Celene from getting assassinated we can change the future?’ Cassandra said hopefully.

I nodded, ‘I guess that’s the plan.’

‘What if the new future is worse?’ Solas asked carefully.

‘In the future we went to, you said yourself that that future was an abomination and needed to be stopped. It was bad, really bad. I think we should take our chances.’ I said without looking at him.

‘I would not have used the word lightly, then I agree.’

I looked at Dorian and shook my head slightly, he nodded. We silently agreed, would say no more about the future. They didn’t need to know about the horrible deaths that awaited them if we failed.

We lapsed into silence again, I rubbed my eyes. I stood, ‘excuse me.’ I mumbled pulling my bow and quiver onto my shoulder. _I needed to pray._ I found a small clearing, just outside of camp. Close enough that I could get back safely, but just far enough away to not be overheard. I lay my weapons on the ground and took out three arrows, I raise them in the air and then place them on the ground, ‘Great Andruil, accept my offering, let me not waiver on this path, let me…’ I heard a twig snap and I froze. I turned and I recognised the legs, I flushed angrily. ‘Seriously Solas, I am trying to speak to the gods right now. Can you not interrupt me?’

He didn’t move.

I turned back and squared my shoulders. But I couldn’t focus, I just kept seeing his red lyrium eyes. I picked up the arrows, I would try again later. ‘I didn’t mean to snap, what do you need?’

‘I just wanted to know why you are avoiding me.’ He said calmly and sat down next to me.

I took a breath, still not looking at him, ‘I’m not.’

He didn’t say anything.

 _Fenedhis_ _. I was._ ‘Maybe a little bit.’ I twisted my hands together, _be brave little hare._ I looked at him, blue eyes with no trace of red lyrium mist. My heart hurt at the sight. I let out a shaky breath. ‘I guess… I know something I shouldn’t.’

‘Was it something I said,’ his jaw was tight, I recognised that expression.

‘You were going to tell me something, but…’ I paused, shutting my eyes trying to stop myself remembering. ‘… Leliana cut you off.’

The tension drained out of his face, whatever his secret was, it was safe. ‘Are you sure it was real?’

I pulled my hair out of my face nervously, and then my hand touched the short strand at the back of my head, I gasped and pulled my quiver over, I upended it. And among the clutter of arrows his pendent fell out. I picked it up and handed it to him, ‘pretty sure.’

He examined the pendent, compared it against the one around his neck. I suspected he was looking for some evidence of a forgery. He couldn’t find it. I heard him swallow hard. He handed it back to me, ‘keep it, I have no use for two.’ I could hear the strain under his light-hearted words. ‘Why…’ He began, but then seemed to think better of it.

‘Why what?’ I asked so softly I could barely hear my own voice.

‘Why did I give this to you?’

I put my hand to my throat, and closed my eyes tightly, _don’t think about it,_ I commanded myself. I looked at the ground, ‘there was no time, we were being attacked, Dorian needed more time to fix the amulet, you…’ My eyes stung and I wasn’t sure when I’d started crying. He pulls me into a tight hug, warm and real and alive.

I pulled back, embarrassed, rubbing my eyes with the backs of my hands. ‘I’m sorry,’ I mumbled, keeping to Trade in imitation.

‘You have nothing to apologise for, thank you for telling me,’ He fiddled with his pendent for a moment, before dropping it and squeezing my hand. ‘anyway, it is good to know that I can die, at least I never have before.’

I looked at him, mouth open, that he could say something so blasé, but then I drop[ed my head into my hands and laughed. I laughed till my face ached. I gave him a warm smile, ‘thank you, for cheering me up.’

He smiled, but then replaced it quickly with a sigh, ‘we should get back. You look exhausted.’

I nodded, his evaluation is correct. I glanced for a second at the abandoned offering. I left them there, prayer unfinished, and hoped that Andruil would understand.


	25. Madame de Fey

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lavellan meets Vivienne and both make quite the impression on each other.

As we arrived back to Haven, I felt nervous. I jumped off Betsie and handed her reigns to Dennet without so much as a second glance and I ran into the village. I didn’t stop until I found Leliana. She was speaking with one of her ravens, so I waited impatiently. She glanced up, noticed me and dismissed the spy. ‘Herald you’re…’

I wrapped my arms around her neck and hugged her tight. ‘Rough trip, time travel, don’t ask’.

She squeezed me back but pulled away, adjusting her hood. ‘What is this about?’ She questions, looking at me like I’d gone quite mad.

I smiled, just grateful to see she was unharmed. My dreams had been haunted with the image of her from the first future and I hadn’t been able to shake the dread until now. ‘Dorian can explain better than I can, I’m sorry, I don’t mean to scare you.’

She pointed towards the chantry, ‘come, tell us what happened.’

* * *

The debriefing took longer than expected, and Cullen shouted at me twice. I left the meeting in a foul mood, expecting to go to bed… or the Singing Maiden If Sera could be persuaded. I laughed to myself, if Sera wasn’t already there!

‘Mistress Lavellan,’ I turned back to see Josephine. ‘I have a letter for you.’

I nodded and followed her into her office, she started digging through piles of assorted documents and finally, victoriously, produced an elegant letter. I took it from her, the seal was already broken. The script was beautiful;

 

_Herald of Andraste,_

 

_You are cordially invited to attend my salon held at the Chateau of Duke Bastian de Ghislain._

 

_Yours,_

_Vivienne de Fer,_

_First Enchanter of Montsimmard,_

_Enchanter to the Imperial Court._

 

I looked up at Josephine, ‘the Vivienne de Fer?’ I asked surprised.

‘Apparently.’

‘I have nothing to wear to a party.’

Josephine’s eyes lit up and she clapped her hands together . _Oh no._

* * *

I had been corseted, perfumed, pulled, prodded and shoved in a pair of heeled shoes. I felt like an idiot, but an _shem_ idiot, and that was the point of the game. Josephine had done her job admirably, and I looked the part. I had been forced to leave my bow behind, but had no less that six daggers secreted on my person in case things went south. Dorian, Cassandra and Blackwall were accompanying me, as ‘they scrubbed up best’ according to Josephine’s critical eye. But I was half convinced the human element of the inquisition was simply being put forward. I had asked Josephine to come herself, and she’d looked longing at me before resigning herself to finish more of the ever growing pile of paperwork. Blackwall at least had the decency to look as uncomfortable as I felt. He was wearing some sort of blue and grey tunic, emblazoned with the symbol of the grey wardens. His hair had been combed and beard trimmed, and after much cajoling bullied into a bath. Dorian, was very well turned out, for a man that had joined the inquisition with only the clothes on his back, he’d gathered a fine wardrobe rather quickly. He had an easy smile on his face and actually seemed excited. Cassandra on the other hand was wearing her Seeker armour, immaculately kept and shining, but her face was grim as though she was going into battle.

As we got to the gates of the chateau, I tripped over my heels, luckily Cassandra had my arm before I fell. ‘I hate these shoes.’ I grumbled. ‘Dress is too long to see them anyway…’ I reached down pulled them off and tucked them behind a particularly large rose bush. ‘There’.

Blackwall laughed, and Dorian tutted. The only problem with my quick thinking was I was now three inches shorter again. _I was the tallest in my clan._ I thought to myself bitterly.

As we entered the lavish atrium, we were announced. A silence spread out across the room, to be replaced a few moments later by whispers.

‘So tell me,’ a woman approached wearing a mask and a collar wider than her head, ‘are all of the rumours true?’

I glanced and Dorian, I could tell he was thinking of the second future and was trying not to laugh. ‘Depends on what you’ve heard?’ I replied, knowing better this time.

She took out a fan from her sleeve and drew it across her face, ‘they say you’re the herald of Andraste. Send here by she, to save us all from the tear in the sky.’

I glanced to Cassandra, her mouth was clenched in a thin line.

‘Do you think Andraste would send a Dalish elf?’ I countered, trying not to laugh.

‘I do not question the Maker’s will’. She replied modestly, then she bowed a little and exited away from me.

‘You’re learning,’ Dorian whispered, ‘never give them a straight answer.’

‘You won’t get any straight answers here,’ Blackwall added.

I smiled at them both and we continued into the party.

After a few minutes, I felt myself relaxing. The music was good, and the building oozed warmth and comfort. I hadn’t ever been properly warm in frozen Haven. Then it all had to be ruined, a masked man turned and handed me an empty glass, ‘get us another.’

‘I’m not…’

He grabbed my ear and shook me, ‘how dare you…’

I heard a whoosh of magic, and he was frozen solid. I have expected to see Solas, but a tall delicate woman in a horned headdress approached. ‘My dear, that wasn’t any way to treat our distinguished guests’.

I pulled my ear from his frozen grasp.

‘I am Vivienne de Fey, what would you have me do with him?’

I glanced at the frozen man, and rubbed my ear. I was very conscious I was surrounded by _shem_. ‘It’s fine, let him go.’

‘You are sure?’ She asked again.

I nodded.

The man unfroze with a click, ‘Marquis. It appears the Herald is a more forgiving woman than I am.’

‘Heretic,’ he spat at me.

Vivienne took his arm, ‘Alphonse,’ a flame licked up his sleeve and he twisted in panic, ‘you will not speak to one of my guests like that again. Consider this your final warning, if you wish to leave tonight.’ The fire died.

Marquis Alphonse gave a hopeless look and left the building with all the dignity he could muster.

Before I had a chance to say anything, ‘may we speak in private?’

Cassandra made a sound to protest, but I nodded and was lead away from the party.

 

She brought me to a secluded balcony that was bathed in moonlight. ‘Though, tell me my dear, why I should join you. I’ve heard you’ve recruited Fiona and her rebels. A full alliance no less’.

I took two breathes, ‘Madame de Fer, may I be blunt?’

She looked at me as if she was decided whether fire or ice would be my fate.

‘Fiona tried to protect her people and ended up trading away the lives of her followers to Tevinter. But for the alliance, her people would be subjected still, but to us instead. Maybe an inquisition master is better than a Tevinter one. I couldn’t honestly say.’ Her face was a mask, an impenetrable iron mask, ‘Madame Vivienne, I know of you and I know of your reputation. I also know that we need mages to help me seal the breach. Since the mage rebellion, you’ve kept the loyalists safe, and I need people who can keep my people safe.’

‘You’re passionate,’ she paused, a smile spread across her face, ‘I’m sure we can come to an arrangement.’


	26. A Day Off

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The gang spends the day at the Ghislain Estate, Cassandra's in a bad mood and Dorian's asking the important questions...

_I walked through a thickly canopied forest, the loamy ground sank below my feet. The scents of cool damp earth filled my nose. I passed a great old tree and touched the cushiony moss that grew from its trunk with my left hand. Unmarked. I took my bow off my shoulder, I made my careful way through the foliage. Drip drop, raindrops. A leaf floated down to my right, and I heard a snuffling in the bushes. I nocked an arrow, a fluffy white bunny hopped out, I shriek and fell over a gnarled tree root. I kept falling._

* * *

I jerked awake. I looked around the large room, the morning sun was streaming through sheer golden curtains. I rubbed my eyes, trying to work out where I was, then I remembered we had stayed the night at the Ghislain Estate, Vivienne had wanted a day or two to make sure she was leaving no loose ends before accompanying us to Haven. Her lover’s chateau was an extravagant display of wealth, surfaces shone gold. Opulent and ostentatious, designed to impress. It certainly did. My head spun slightly as I got up, too much good wine the night before. I found a saddlebag discarded on a small puffy chair by a mirrored wall. I opened it to find the supplies that Josephine had picked out for me. I pulled some clothes out, examining the ‘Orlesian day fashion.’ There was a floor length skirt in red and white which I pulled on. Under that was a sort of top that I couldn’t work out how to put on, inside the material was nested a little silver mask and a folded scrap of parchment. I opened it up, there was a sort of squiggle and three women drawn… I realised it was instructions for putting on the wrap shirt. Silently thanking Josephine for her forethought, I tried to properly attire myself. Ties wrapped back and forth across my waist, I took a few steps, and nothing fell off, so I guessed it must be right. I looked at myself in the full-length mirror, but it wasn’t a woman I recognised looking back at me.

Everite eyes looked back at me, polished rich-brown curls framed my face almost hiding the tips of my ears. But for the pale pink-white _vallaslin_ framing my eyes, I could have passed for a city elf of good fortune. I picked up the mask and even the _vallaslin_ was gone. I put the mask away.

 

Breakfast was an odd affair, as Dorian wasn’t up yet and Cassandra had excused herself almost as soon as she appeared. Blackwall was stony silent, and I found I didn’t have much to say. I was introduced to the Duke de Ghislain, he was a charming man, older than Vivienne, but kind and witty. The two danced around each other like butterflies in the spring, each anticipating the other’s need, perfectly choreographed. Simple, and oddly beautiful, she poured him juice, as he passed her toast. I felt a sting of guilt at tearing the two apart. After breakfast, Vivienne had retreated to her office, sending messages to all parts of Thedas and I was left to entertain myself.  

 

So, by midday I found myself in the gardens. The warm sun was beating down on my face, I sighed, contentedly. It was nice to take some time to myself. The gardens were full of exotic flowers that I had never seen before, the perfume was heady. I stopped by a little fountain, the trickling water was a pleasant backdrop. I sat in the shade, my back to the fountain.

And that was where I was when Cassandra found me. She was still in full armour; her face was a little flushed and I could only assume she was boiling in the heat. She looked ill at ease, ‘herald.’ She greeted when she saw me.

‘How are you, Cassandra?’

She huffed, ‘I am ill-suited to finery. I will be happy to leave.’

I glanced around, ‘considered it a day off,’ I leaned back against the cool stone, ‘I imagine it will be a long time before we have another.’

She nodded and sat on a bench opposite me, ‘I am glad that Enchanter Vivienne is joining the inquisition.’

‘As am I.’

Cassandra looked over me with a considered eye, ‘she has always shown sense in her dealings with the chantry, I didn’t expect you to value such things.’

I looked down and chuckled, ‘you caught me, I don’t.’

‘Maker preserve us.’

‘I’m sorry, I’m not what you expected.’

She stood, ‘I have no expectations.’ And she left me alone. I considered her words, momentarily unsure of the ally that I had made in Vivienne.

I got up, no longer enjoying the fountain as the sound was putting me on edge. I walked back towards the chateau. Passing through the courtyard at the back of the sprawling building, I saw Dorian. He was sprawled out over two chairs, feet up with a wine glass in hand.

He raised his glass to me, I walked over. ‘I see you’ve already raided Madame de Fey’s wine cellar.’

He scrunched up his face, ‘raided, such a cruel word. I liberated this rather fine bottle from 9.16, a particularly good vintage.’ He slanted his head, ‘plus a decanter… and two glasses?’ He said holding an empty glass at me.

‘It’s mid-afternoon, Dorian.’ I said chastising, while taking the glass and settling down next to him. ‘Enjoying yourself then?’

He poured me a glass of the ruby liquid. ‘Very much, Madame Vivienne may be a circle mage, but you cannot deny, she has style.’

‘And plenty of wine to raid.’ I added.

He laughed, ‘of course. What more could you want in a friend?’

‘Indeed.’

‘Well, speaking of friends…’ he drawled the last word, ‘what is going on between you and the hobo apostate?’

I set the wine glass down, ‘Dread wolf take you,’ I hissed and got to stand up. _Awful man, luring me in with wine_.

‘Ohh, Dalish curses, I’ve hit a nerve.’ He tapped his fingers against his glass and motioned with his head for me to sit.

I sat back with a sigh, ‘why do you want to know?’

He poured himself another glass, ‘just verifying certain rumours.’

I gave him a withering look, ‘for Sera I take it?’

‘Hardly.’ He scoffed, ‘my own morbid interest. Just curious what would make you want to stay in future one, surely, it’s more than the sad eyes.’ He fluttered his eyelashes at me.  

I drank my wine a little fast, ‘future one?’ I questioned, although I already knew what he was talking about.

He gave me a disapproving look, ‘I had the amulet, I could have got us back, but I had to stop you running after him.’

‘I know.’ But I didn’t know how to answer him. ‘Thank you for getting me back.’

He nodded, then his eyebrows furrow, ‘is it an elf thing?’

‘No.’ I replied a little too curtly. I tucked my legs up on the seat and smoothed my skirt out.

He raised an eyebrow, ‘so do tell.’

I passed the wine glass between my hands, ‘not too much to tell,’ _the tree, the translation, the sacrifice, his actions speak louder than words, ‘_ I’m just being ridiculous, I’m putting everyone in danger for what, a man that doesn’t even like me.’

Dorian laughed, and set his glass down with a clatter, ‘you should see the way he looks at you, like he’d ravish you, if only you let him.’

I choked on my wine, ‘don’t.’ I cleared my throat and drained my glass ‘so anyone taken your fancy?’

He laughed and poured us each another glass. The decanter was starting to get empty. ‘There is hardly a queue for the Tevinter necromancer.’

‘Necromancer?’ _I didn’t know that_.

‘It’s quite common in the imperium.’ He said playfully defensive.


	27. The Breach

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lavellan is going to try to seal the breach...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's a bit shorter than I intended, but I decided to split this chapter in two!  
> Hope you enjoy - Hezjena xx

I slumped off Betsie in a foul mood. Dorian and Vivienne had argued the whole way back from her Chateau, it had started as a chastisement over stealing the bottle of wine, which quickly escalated into a furious back and forth over. Cassandra had tried to calm them down, which ended in the two forming a temporary truce to put the Seeker in her place. Blackwall and I had exchanged a glance and remained silent. We rode up to Haven to find the town in chaos; agents, soldiers and mages were running about.

 

I was tying up Betsie in the stable, when Cullen approached, followed by Grand Enchanter Fiona.

‘Herald,’ Cullen greeted, ‘the best of the mages are assembled, we’re ready to close the breach.’

‘Now?’ I gasped, I’d just gotten back.

‘Now. We’ve already sent two groups up the mountain, they’re waiting for us there.’ He confirmed, with a quick smile.

‘First Enchanter Vivienne,’ Fiona said dismissively.

Vivienne stepped forward and looked over Fiona, ‘My dear Fiona, it’s been so long since we last spoke. You look dreadful? How is your little rebellion going?’

Fiona brushed her words off, ‘we are free agents of the inquisition now.’

‘But you almost weren’t, I heard about your plans, what were you thinking?’ Vivienne’s tone was light, as though she was commenting on a badly chosen pair of earrings.

‘I would do anything to protect my people.’ Fiona snapped.

‘And the assumption is that I wouldn’t protect mine?’

‘I did what I had to do.’

‘Keep telling yourself that, my dear.’

I sighed lowly, stepping between them ‘play nice, we’re going to go try to fix that.’ I pointed at our destination, the breach. Without waiting for their responses, I climbed back onto Betsie and took off up the mountain.

 

Shocked at the sheer number of mages that had gathered to help, our allies, marching together towards the crater that used to be the Temple of Sacred Ashes. I rode past the sea of excited and apprehensive faces. I spotted the purple hood and rode up to Leliana who was at the head of the mage army. She glanced at me, ‘I am sorry you did not have time to rest, we expected you back yesterday.’

‘We stayed with..’

‘I know,’ she smiled, but it was weary, and we pressed on up the mountainside. ‘Only one thing to report, before we left, one of my agents did not report in this morning.’

I nodded, ‘we will worry about it when we get back, could be a bear attack.’

She gave me a weak smile.

 

The advantage to not knowing that I was going to be closing the breach so soon was that I only had the ride up the mountain to worry about it. I soon found myself back in the blacken ruins with barely a thought about what would happen if the mages were not enough to close the breach. _If you can close the breach, future one is different._ That little burst of hope was enough to get me through the soot-stained doors. I looked down at my hand, just one more rift.

 

I walked alone towards the green tear in the sky, certainly looking braver than I felt. Green pain exploded in my hand. I heard voices behind me but didn’t hear the words. I was focused in front of me. The air lit up, with _tiny green tears_ , _almost like red lyrium._ I pushed the thought away, _be brave little hare._ I kept going until the breach surrounded me like a woollen blanket on a cold day. I could feel the itch of the fade scratching at my skin, I could feel the wave of potential behind me. My left hand outstretched, crackling with energy. I lifted it into the air, and everything went white. _White rabbit._ I fell to my knees, but the energy kept flowing through me, I was slowing it, channelling it. I was the cataract in the mighty river, bending the current to my will. And I willed the breach to close. _I willed the breach to close._

The breach exploded.

I found myself alive and unharmed. My ears rang and my eyes were blotchy, I stretched out carefully and found Cassandra behind me. She was beaming. ‘You did it.’ She congratulated. She reached out her hands and helped me to my feet. We stood awkwardly for a second, I thought she was going to hug me, but she seemed to think better of it and pulled back. I turned towards the mages, unsure of what to do. Cassandra grabbed my hand and raise it in the air, the cheer that came forth was deafening.

* * *

We returned to Haven, joyful for once. The tension that had overhung the little down was finally gone. Even Cullen seemed happy. I couldn’t believe I’d actually survived. _I’ll see my clan again._ The ale was flowing, and more than one cup was pressed into my hands. I walked through Haven, Sera had given me a tight hug and promised me a drink, only to return with one of the good bottles form he top shelf of the Singing Maiden. Varric had insisted on making a slurred toast to my honour. Red in the face, I tried to sneak away and was caught by Leliana, who told me that this sort of victory was one to be celebrated and I allowed her to drag me back to the party.

Maryden had set herself up outside the Singing Maiden, playing jaunty songs. Bonfires were lit in the streets of Haven, and everyone who could was dancing. As the dusk was settling Krem challenged Maryden and suddenly the Chargers were signing. When it was over Dalish found me, she took both of my hands brought them up and we rested our foreheads against our hands. Finally, I thought, a proper Dalish greeting.

I found myself sitting on the little wall in front of the chantry overlooking the main gates, which is where Cassandra found me. ‘Solas has confirmed, the sky is scarred, but the breach is gone. The rifts remain.’

The sound of his name struck me, but I hadn't seen him since I’d been atop the mountain, _maybe now the breach was fixed he's disappeared again. I had told him to leave._ I cursed my stupidity. Cassandra was still looking at me expectantly. I leaned back on my hands, ‘not bad for your prisoner?’

She laughed, ‘you are hardly…’

She was interrupted by a banging on the gate, and we looked at each other. Cassandra narrowed her eyes, and set her hand one her sword. I set down my cup. We pushed through the crowd. The mountains echoed with strangled yells.

We got to the gates, Cullen was looking worried.

‘I cannot get in, if you do not open the doors!’ A young man's voice shouted. I rushed to the door, ignoring the ‘no’ behind me.

An armed Templar greeted me on the other side of the door, only to fall to his knees. Revealing a boy behind him with bloody daggers in his hands. My eyes went wide, I wanted to scream at Cullen for not letting this child in.

‘He is coming, the Elder one.’ The boy wearing a large hat said. I was shorter than him, his rough blond hair fell over his eyes. _A blind saviour_ , I thought briefly, _how useful_.

‘I am Cole,’ the boy continued, ‘he is mad, he is mad you stole his mages. He’s coming.’ He turned and pointed towards the mountain.

I looked between Cullen and Cassandra in horror, _I guess I wasn’t going home anytime soon._  


	28. Gods and Monsters

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lavellan faces off against the self-proclaimed god. And hits her head hard enough to dream of her childhood, could anyone have prepared her for the challenges ahead?

Cole pointed back at a tall twisted man on the mountain, his face was scared with red shards. I knew the face from a dream, or a dream of a dream. It came then, screeching and screaming against the moonlight. I looked at Cullen. _They had a dragon._

 

I ran to my little cabin, grabbed my good boots. I threw them on in a panic. I threw myself at the little cupboard, grabbing the statue of Mythal, I turned and tore down my prayer cloth. It ripped, I folded it around the statue and threw it into my quiver. I glanced around, nothing else. I ran back into burning Haven. _The letters_ , I cursed, _they were gone now_.

 

Vivienne flanked me, casting cold into the burning building. I put my sleeve to my face, Flissa was trapped under a fallen roof timber. I burned my hands but dug her free. ‘Get to the chantry.’ I hissed. Vivienne had gone with her.  

 

I stood by the trebuchet, my palms were cracked, I didn’t feel the pain. I watched the projectile saw through the clear evening air. Crack. Crash. The mountain was falling. White slide down, blanketing trees and men alike. ‘We need to go’, Dorian called pulling me from the battlements.

 

The summer pilgrimage _They could get out. They just needed a distraction_. ‘If we are going to have a change…’ Cullen said. ‘I cannot ask you to do this.’

I nodded, I would anyway.

 

I fell, a sharp pain in the back of my head. I was tired, too tired. _I had to get up._ Fire burned around me. Someone approached. _I had to get up._ The Elder One approached, with clawed hands and red shards tearing across his flesh. The earth shook. The dragon landed, sleek and black and beautiful. I roared at me, I thought of the dragon-faced lady. _Mythal._

‘Pretender.’ The man turned monster called. A new title, I thought dimly. I tried to form words, but they didn’t come. ‘You want what you cannot have, you stole what is not yours, you toy with forces beyond your control. Know me, know what you have pretended to be. Exalt the Elder One, the will that is Corypheus.’ He raised a clawed hand to me, pointing. ‘You will kneel.’ He drew his hand back, pulling an orb from the air, its glowed red. Dancing lines of lyrium. The pattern on the surface, the one I had seen from my dreams… I squinted at it. ‘The process of removing the anchor begins now.’ Green pain exploded in my hand, radiating through my bones. I cried out and dug my nails into my wrist. ‘It is your fault, you interrupted a ritual, years in the planning, and instead of dying you stole its purpose.’ I though my hand was going to crack, the bones would break and splinter like shards of glass. ‘I do not know how you survived, but the power I you use to close the rifts, I crafted to assault the very heavens.’

I drop to the ground, my right hand fumbled for my knife. _If only I could grab it, if only_. ‘I have walked in the black city, I have seen this blighted world, for a thousand years I was confused. And now I have returned under my own name.’ I found my knife, pushed myself forward and tried to stab him in the chest. He threw me aside like I was a rag doll, I could taste copper in my mouth. ‘I will be a new god, pray that I succeed. For I have seen the throne of the gods.’ He paced closed to me, so close I could hear the red lyrium shards sing. ‘And they were empty.’

The dragon padded closer, I saw it gulp in a breath. ‘I will not suffer even an imperfect rival. You must…’ I lunged for the trebuchet’s crank. ‘…die.’ The mechanism screeched in protest, the wood protested, and the ropes snapped taut with a crack. A projectile was launched. I didn’t watch it, I just willed my feet to move me. _White. Cold. Falling._

* * *

 _‘The gods do not require worship,_ da’len _. Worship is an act, like singing or cooking. It can be a kindness, a gift, or an exchange. Do you understand?’ My mother held me tightly on her knee. Her arms were round me. I looked up to her, her wise brown eyes looked down._

_‘I think so.’ I replied as honestly as I could._

_‘If I bring you a sweet cake, why would I do that?’ She asked softly, twisting the ring on her finger as was her habit._

_‘Because…’ I screwed up my face, ‘I was hungry?’ I guessed._

_‘Maybe, Hellana, or because I know they’re your favourite, or because I love you.’ She planted a kiss on top of my curls._

_‘And if I brought your Aunt a sweet cake, why might I do that?’_

_I looked over at my aunt Dirthanna, she stuck her tongue out at me. I giggled, ‘she doesn’t like sweet cakes, silly.’_

_My mother rocked me softly, she raised an eyebrow at her sister, pulling one side of her bow and arrow_ vallaslin _up. Her_ vallaslin _was lighter than her face, making it look more like a sprawling perfect scar than a tattoo. I would choose the same when I was older, although dedicated to Mythal instead._

 _‘No little hare, she doesn’t. But might want to trade the cake for something. Can you see_ da’len _? One action many reasons. We give gifts to the gods out of love, and sometimes we ask them for something in return.’_

_‘Like what?’_

_Dirthanna and my mother exchanged a glance, ‘they are old and wise, if you are wise you ask for wisdom, little one.’ Dirthanna answered._

_My mother laughed, her curls bounced as she did, ‘ask them for what you like.’_

_I was getting restless and I pulled away from her, ‘can I ride on the halla tomorrow?’_

_She smiled, ‘if you like.’_

* * *

 

I woke in a cave, cold water was dripped next to my face, splashing me. The relentless dripping pulled me from my memories. I looked around, tiny pinpricks of light allowed my eyes to adjust to the near blackness. I tried to push myself to my feet and fell back down. My hands were raw and bleeding. I found my knife only a few paces away, I clutched it to my chest, my mother would never forgive me if I lost it. I cut two thin strips from the bottom of my jacket and wrapped the fabric around my hands. I found my bow and quiver nearby unharmed, _Andruil must be looking over me._ I shivered suddenly, _I was tired, I could just lie back down_. I ignored that voice in my head and started walking.

I found my way blindly out of the cave and picked a direction at random. I murmured a quick invocation of Ghilan’nain asking for her direction. _Show me the way, great lady_. The sun was properly rising when I found a burnt-out campfire. The snow had been compressed recently. _Thank you Ghilan’nain_. The way forward was laid out before me. I took a moment and pulled the prayer cloth out of the bottom of my quiver, I had forgotten it had been torn. I looked down in horror, it went right down the centre of one of the sigils. I tucked it away quickly, and glanced nervously up at the sky, hoping the gods would not see and be offended. I couldn’t afford to lose any luck.

I trudged on uphill. The cold stung my skin, the freezing damp clung to my legs, my hands were numb and raw. I lifted my arm to protect my eyes, but soon found I didn’t have the energy to keep my arm up. I saw a light in front of me and I fell forward into the snow. _It was soft, pillowy, it wasn’t so bad._


	29. The Orb

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Waking up with hypothermia isn't ideal, and it all seems rather hopeless. Good job Mother Giselle is there to start a sing-song.

‘Dirthanna?’ I questioned as I woke up. My mind didn’t make a lot of sense, I couldn’t understand how Dirthanna was here or why my aunt was wearing such a funny hat.

‘Shhh, you need rest.’ She said soothingly.

I rubbed my eyes; my fingers were numb blocks, I couldn’t close my fist. I tried to sit up, but Dirthanna pushed me back down. ‘That’s a silly hat.’ I blinked hard, my voice didn’t sound like my voice, but I couldn’t work out what was wrong. My aunt laughed. Her laugh was wrong. _Dirthanna had died a few years ago._ That wasn’t my aunt. My-not-aunt shook her head and piled another blanket on me, ‘sleep, Herald, you’ve had a long day.’

* * *

I could hear the arguing voices, back and forth. I knew they were important, I pulled myself upright. Mother Giselle was fussing next to me, I glanced across sheepishly unsure why I’d thought Dirthanna would ever have been caught dead in those red and white robes. I flexed my fingers, the feeling was back. Mother Giselle noticed me and sat down next to me. ‘You’re awake again.’

I nodded, ‘I think I’m back.’

She touched the back of her hand against my forehead. ‘You were delirious when we found you in the snow. Apparently,’ she smiled lightly, ‘the bunnies were after you.’

A stone settled in my stomach. I laughed a little, ‘the cold will do that to you.’

She nodded.

I caught Cassandra shout, ‘enough, this is getting us nowhere.’

‘We have gone where the enemy could not follow, we are safe for now. With time, there is time to doubt, thanks to you we have the luxury.’ She folded her hands neatly in her lap. I suspected she wanted to talk, which I didn’t. I tried to push myself up.

‘No,’ she cautioned, ‘another voice will not help, especially not yours.’

I looked away, grateful that she had misunderstood my intention, but now I was trapped. She turned to me, eyes intense. ‘Our leaders struggle…’ she paused, finding her words, ‘because of what they witnessed. What we all witnessed. We saw our defender stand… and fall… and come back again.’

I shook my head, ‘but it didn’t happen…’

She raised a delicate hand to stop me. ‘Sometimes the Maker works in the moment, and sometimes in how the moment is remembered.’

‘So the truth doesn’t matter?’ I snapped.

She lowered her head briefly, as though she considered what I said. ‘What matters is that the further the enemy is behind us, the more our trials seem divinely ordained.’

I clenched my teeth together, _not by my gods._

She smiled lightly, ‘that is hard to accept, no?’

‘I do not accept it.’

‘ _We_ have been called to endure this,’ she placed her hand lightly on mine, I looked down at it and softly pulled my hand back. She ignored it and sat forward, eyes locked on mine, ‘can we truly know that _the heavens_ are not with us?’

I took a breath, ‘so my gods up there, in your heavens?’ I asked almost sincerely, in that moment I was curious what she thought. But she said nothing. I pulled back and lowered my legs from the cot. I carefully got to my feet, I didn’t want her to see me stumble. I wrapped one of the blankets from the bed around my shoulder like a make-shift cloak. I could see Leliana and Josephine sat by some crates, I wanted to speak to Leliana, someone who would speak sense… I felt weak, I stopped. I closed my eyes, everything ached. Maybe I could just go back, go back and sleep until this was over. I felt Mother Giselle approach, probably to goad me back to bed. Instead she just stood next to me… and started singing. I didn’t know the words, or the tune. From the words that I caught I suspected it was a hymn of some kind. I looked up, and smiled, because I was under the open sky. _Creators save me from the singing._

I huffed out a breath, but Mother Giselle had caught the attention of the camp. I noticed Leliana looked up, she gave me a guarded smile. I stood awkwardly, unsure of what to do. Leliana joined in with her sweet pure voice. I maintained a neutral expression, but I was screaming inside. I saw Cullen come to the entrance of a tent, his eyes were wide. He surveyed the scene, _good, he would stop this nonsense._ He added his voice.

A crowd was starting to gather around me, I thought with alarm, would they expect me to know the words? A man approached me and knelt before me. I stared at him, not comprehending. _Get up!_ I thought furiously at him. Then another joined him, and another. Rows of _shem_ knelling to me. _This is going to end well._

It was at that moment I saw Solas, leaning on his staff in between two tents. _Help me._ I tried to communicate silently. He seemed to understand as he shook his head slightly and smirked at me. _Fenedhis._ Maybe if I only look at him, the humans will get bored and go away. But he disappeared and I was alone.

The song ended, and a hopeful silence spread across the camp. ‘The inquisition doesn’t just need an enemy, it needs a purpose.’ Mother Giselle said quietly.

‘A word?’ Sneaky elf was behind me.

I bowed my head to Mother Giselle, ‘if you say so.’ I agreed, turned and followed Solas away from the _shem._

 

My skin was crawling, and I had to actively stop myself from sprinting away. ‘Where are we going?’ I queries as I realised, we were leaving the camp.

‘Somewhere we will not be overheard.’ He said without looking back.

The snow was getting more difficult to trudge through, and I pulled the blanket around me tighter. _This better be worth it._

Once we stopped, he stopped to create veilfire, I moved closer warming my hands on the green heat. The light illuminated his face from below, making him look almost menacing, I laughed at little at the idea of him being dangerous.

He raised an eyebrow curiously, ‘it doesn’t take much for the _shem_ to start singnig.’ I said, giving an alternative explanation.

He didn’t look impressed, ‘the humans, have no raised one of our people so high for ages beyond counting.’

I could count, a thousand years, since they’d burnt Andraste, since Shartan had willingly waded into the fire. I felt a stone settle in my stomach, I let out a shaky breath, my good humour wiped away instantly. I closed my eyes, how could he so simply put my fear into words. I nodded.

‘Their faith is hard won, _lethallin…’_

I didn’t hear the rest of his sentence, _lethallin_ , kinswoman, a promise. _I will protect you as if you were kin._

‘… the orb he carries. It is ours.’

‘I know.’ I said, before I could stop myself.

Solas turned his full attention to me, like he could see through to my very bones, ‘how do you know?’

A little smile tugged at my lips, ‘dreams and coded message.’ I began cryptically. ‘My clan, we found one of these orbs before, Ghilan’nain’s. A hunter touched it, it did this.’ I held up my left hand, ‘but purple. He found it in a temple, drove him mad.’

He weighed my words for a moment, ‘you didn’t tell me.’

‘I was worried, I didn't know...’  _if you'd tell the shem._

He nodded simply. ‘We should prepare for their reaction, when they learn that the orb is of our people.’

‘What else do you know?’ I asked.

He smiled lightly, ‘there are foci, used to channel powers from our gods. All that remains are references in ruins, faint visions in the fade, echoes of a dead empire.’

My eyes flicked to his lips at that, _our gods._ ‘I know who…’

He barely moved, ‘who?’ He spoke so quietly, I wasn’t sure I’d heard it at all.

‘I think…’ I took a breath and glanced up at the sky, ‘at least all the clues point…’

‘Who?’

‘Corypheus said that he wanted the orb to assault the heavens. I wasn’t certain until he said that.... And I’m not certain. But I’ve had dreams. A being with too many eyes is following my sleep-steps. If you’re right, we just need to find the temple… finding a lost temple is not going to be easy…’ I trailed off, but at least we had a plan.

‘Who?’

‘Who do we know that was desperate to get back into the abyss?’ I shrugged lightly. ‘Andruil.’


	30. Purist

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We are almost at Skyhold!! :D  
> Thank you all for reading, I can't believe I'm 30 chapters in :O

‘Andruil.’ I said firmly, _it had to be. Who else?_

Solas began to say something but cut himself off. He frowned at his strangled words. He took a step back and then forward again. He looked into the veilfire, his face was calm, but I could see his eyes flickering back and forth, almost like words were written on the flames. _Did I just break Solas?_

‘Are you alright?’ I asked softly, my hand on his arm.

He looked down at my touch, he nodded and cleared his throat. ‘You say something is following you in your dreams?’

I looked away, _guess we’re not talking about the orb anymore._ ‘Nothing I can’t handle.’

He nodded, not looking at me, he was still on edge. ‘It seems strange, could it be a coincidence?’

‘Possibly, there is something else, another coincidence, if you will. Something I divined. But I can’t reveal it here.’ I glanced up at the sky nervously _, something blasphemous._

He raised an eyebrow at that, ‘what it is?’

I grimaced, and put my hand on my woven bracelet, ‘a torn prayer cloth.’ My words barely louder than a whisper.

The corner of his mouth twitched up.

 _Purist,_ I realised, the purists were the school of thought that was only interested in recreating exactly the worship of Arlathan. Then I glanced back towards the camp. _Change the subject._ ‘I think that we should tell them about the orb, what we’ve found out... Save them finding out from anyone else.’ My words sounding braver than I felt.

‘Perhaps you are right, we must be above suspicion to be seen as valued allies.’

‘Valued allies,’ I repeated with a sad sigh, I touched my _vallaslin._ ‘I don’t think I can do this…’ I hissed.

‘We have to.’ He said grimly. ‘There is something else, I found something in my journeys in the fade. Something that will help you. He pointed at the distant mountain, scout to the north. There is a place that waits for a force to hold it. Tarasyl'an Te'las.’

I gasped, ‘it’s not real.’ I shook my head, ‘if it is real, then it’s lost.’ I said dumbly.

‘It is real, but it was built over by humans. There is place for the inquisition to grow there. Faith in you is shaping at the moment, but it needs room to grow.’

I shook my head, I walked to walk straight down the damned mountain and away from the lot of them. ‘I don’t think I want _their_ faith.’ I spat. ‘This is madness, I can’t just walk into myths, I…’ I ran my hands through my hair, ‘as though I am somehow entitled to take up a place among them.’ I looked down at my marked hand, _the anchor_. _The anchor that fixes the veil._ I put my head in my hands, ‘the gods are laughing at me.’

Solas’ hand touched my cheek, guiding my head up to look at him. ‘I do not think they are.’

I took a steady breath, ‘then… show me the way to Skyhold.’

‘Skyhold,’ he repeated, tasting my imperfect translation.

 

We went back to the camp, Leliana was in a heated debate with Cullen about our next move. I stepped up to them but faltered and looked back. Solas nodded his approval. I straightened my back, ‘I know where to go.’

The both turned to me, Cullen’s face was the perfect picture of surprise, while Leliana remained composed. ‘A fortress.’

They looked at each other, ‘where it is?’ Cullen asked.

‘I’m not sure yet.’ I said honestly.

Leliana took me by my shoulders, she held a hand up to my forehead. I shifted uncomfortable by her touching my _vallaslin._ ‘Are you sure you are recovered?’

I smiled at her, hoping that it was reassuring. ‘I have a guide.’

Leliana glanced behind me, I could see her assessing Solas behind me. Then I saw her mind assessing the situation, the pieces moving into place in her mind. She nodded. ‘I will inform the others, and you will lead the way.’

 

I retreated to my designated tent. It was a spacious place, I could stand upright in the tent and stretch both arms out comfortably. It was sparsely furnished, with a camp bed and a small table. My bow and quiver were lying on the table along with a new pack, I touched it briefly, but decided to check out the supplies in the morning.

‘Hellana?’ Solas voice called quietly from outside the canvas. I lifted the tent flap for him to enter. ‘Forgive me for disturbing you, I hoped to see the prayer cloth you spoke of?’ His voice was smooth, and he was close. The spacious tent suddenly felt small. I could feel the blush rising in my cheek, but I pushed such thoughts away and grabbed my quiver, I pulled the little statue out of the bottom and unrolled the prayer cloth. Settling Mythal on the table. ‘I grabbed it, as Haven burned, it got ripped. See where it tore.’

I lay the cloth out on the table, nine sigils, the rip went right down the centre of Andruil’s marking. I would have to repair it or burn it, it would be a great sacrilege to show this to the open sky. Andruil would take it as a challenge.

He traced a hand across the markings, ‘nine.’ He muttered, standing back.

I glanced at him, my eyebrows raised in surprise, ‘there _are_ nine gods.’

He shifted uneasy.

‘Purist,’ I muttered under my breath, and gave him a sly smile.

Solas frowned, ‘and this led you to Andruil?’

I closed my eyes, _tongues of flame licked the walls._ ‘I was in Haven, I thought ‘why is this happening to me’, I grabbed the cloth, it ripped, and it gave me the answer.’ I leaned on the table, ‘it’s basic divination. You know, talking to the gods. It’s not like I can just go up and ask.’

He made a dismissive noise. ‘I see. But thank you for showing me.’

I began folding the cloth up and he turned to leave. ‘Stay.’ I said and reached for him.

Solas glanced at me, to the single bed, and back to my face. His eyes were narrow. ‘Is that a command, Herald?’ He asked carefully.

I took a little step back, looking down. ‘No.’

He bowed his head to me and left. I slumped down on the bed. ‘Piss,’ I swore employing Sera’s favourite curse. Then sank head down onto the pillow, wondering if it would be possible to smother myself.


	31. Skyhold

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lavellan's first day in Skyhold and she is really not enjoying the spotlight.

It took us another week to get to Skyhold, the route was dangerous, and we moved at the pace of the slowest. The castle was eerily beautiful. A mountain had been levelled, and a great sprawling grey stone castle plonked on top. It was very old, not quite ancient, and built in Ferelden style. Parts of it were crumbling, _June, help us rebuild this place._ The access to the castle was up a steep mountain path, the druffalos had some difficulty lugging our supplies up, even my thighs burned as I made my way uphill. The only advantage is that it would be equally as difficult for an invading army. There would be no repeat of Haven.

 

We had arrived in the morning, and by the mid-afternoon I had helped people to unload crates from druffalos and was working with Josephine to assign rooms when Leliana appeared. She gave a nod to Josephine, who smiled quickly and scurried off.

‘It appears that we will be safe here, for a time. It is good that you found this place.’ Her words were sober.

‘Yes.’ I agreed simply. I looked around, the patchy grass poking from the grey stone cobbles. Maybe the inquisition was like that grass, stubborn, refusing to yield to the cold.

She led me up a stone staircase, which looked like it had been carved into the living rock. ‘We know what the Elder One is after now, and we know his next move. In that future you saw.’

I nodded and looked down at my hand, ‘he’s after the mark. If he can’t have it, he’s after me.’ _No chance to get home anytime soon then._

She clasped her hands in front of her, ‘it seems all we need is a leader, and the elder one will not stop until he had you.’

I looked to her, _oh no._ ‘A leader?’ I croaked.

She smiled, ‘the one who has been leading us all along.’

I shook my head, ‘you can’t be serious?’

‘You got the mages, you sealed the breach. You are the one who gave us time to get out of Haven, and you are the one who brought us here.’ She led me around a corner, I could see people gathered. I could feel my heart beating in my ears. _Oh no._

She held out her hand, showing me up a different staircase. I saw Cassandra at the top of the staircase with a huge sword. I faltered for a second. _The white eye painted on her chest plate stared down at me. The sword in her hand. Executioner. Get rid of me, these people will be safe here._

‘Will you lead us?’ Leliana asked.

I turned back, I thought I was going to faint, I took another step. ‘But… I’m an elf.’ I stammered.

‘Yes,’ Cassandra said softly, I turned to look up at her, and took another step. ‘Even more evidence of how far you have risen. How it must have been by Andraste’s hand.’

 _No. I am not her Herald. I am not your puppet._ I took another step so that I was facing Cassandra. ‘Are you quite sure you want me?’

‘I do not feel comfortable handing this power to anyone, but I believe it is the only way.’ She replied.

I felt Leliana behind me. And there I stood, trapped between the two hands of the divine. ‘They will follow you.’

Cassandra drew the sword up, so that it was lying flat in her open palms, she offered it to me. The sword was taller than I was, the hilt was almost as wide as my wrist. Then I saw the curved dragon head at the top, _the dragon-headed woman_. _I would do this, it wasn’t like I had any other choice._

‘How you lead is up to you, you alone can determine our fate,’ Cassandra said quietly. _And if you fail…_

I tried to take the sword from her with one hand, but I could barely lift it. I took the hilt with both hands. _An elf standing for Thedas._ I thought grimly.

‘Have our people been told?’ Cassandra yelled down to crowd, and I almost dropped the sword in shock.

Josephine stepped forward, ‘they have!’ She replied. ‘And soon the world!’

‘Commander, will they follow?’

Cullen stepped forward and turned his back to me. _Oh no._ He drew his sword, _oh no._ ‘Inquisition, will you follow?’ He called to the crowd. A cheer rang up, it echoed off the stone walls. It was deafening. _Oh_. ‘Will you fight?’ The cry was louder this time, and he paused for a long moment waiting for the cheers to die down. ‘Will we win?’ He raised his sword in the air. He turned and pointed it at me, ‘Your Leader, your Herald, your Inquisitor!’

I stood dumbfounded.

‘Now, raise the sword.’ Leliana hissed at me.

I did as I was told and hoisted the sword two handed above my head. I tried not to stumble under its weight and my arms trembled with the effort. ‘You couldn’t have gotten a smaller sword.’ I muttered without moving my lips to Leliana.

Cassandra gave me a grunt of disapproval.

I had to bring the sword down early for fear of dropping it on the crowd below.

 

Cullen bounded up the steps to join me, and Josephine was following behind. They lead me up the steps to the keep proper. Cullen kicked open the door. The smell of dust and rotting wood hit me all at once. I crinkled up my nose so that I wouldn’t sneeze.

Rotting lumber and broken masonry littered the ground. There was a crashed chandelier on the ground. At the very end was a grand stained-glass window, in front of which sat a throne.

Cullen turned back to me, sweeping his hand across the air as though presenting the room to me, ‘Inquisitor, Skyhold is yours.’

I took a gulp and stepped forward. I rested the sword against the ground. _Now what._

Leliana seemed to hear my question, ‘out there was a promise, in here in is where we turn that promise into action.’

‘But we know nothing about this Corypheus, except that he wanted the mark.’ Josephine added.

I looked down at the green glow of my hand, ‘we know he wants to enter the fade, we know he wants to come a god.’ I shuddered at the very thought.

‘It doesn’t matter if he has to destroy all of this world to reach the next.’ Leliana commented, ‘we must stop him.’

I nodded, ‘someone must know something.’ _I knew something,_ I took a breath, _now or never._ ‘The orb he carries, the object that did this,’ I raise my hand to them. ‘He thinks it is Tevintan. It isn’t, it’s older.’ Josephine narrowed her eyes. ‘It’s Elvhen. Can we send a message to my clan? Asking Keeper Deshanna can help us.’  

Cullen raised an eyebrow, ‘how do you know?’

‘We’ve seen one before.’

There was a moment of tense silence, as the knowledge broke over them. ‘Good idea, and we know that Corypheus’ first move is to assassinate Empress Celene.’ Leliana said cutting through the tension.

Josephine nodded, ‘I will try to get us an invitation to the Winter Palace.’

‘Let’s get to work.’


	32. Divination and Drunks

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lavellan's spends her first night in Skyhold. What does she do? Go find the tavern of course!

I was alone in the highest room in the tower above the main keep. They had given the little suite of rooms over to me for my personal usage. I appreciated the balcony but suspected that the kindness of my advisers was partly because I could not leave my rooms without going through the main hallway. My whereabouts would constantly be known. There was a bed in the centre of the room, a little desk, a dresser and sofa. I have left the unwieldy sword downstairs, with an instruction to attach it to the throne. At least that way I wouldn’t have to lift it again, Josephine had given me an approving nod.  

I sat alone, on the corner of the bed. The room was quiet, and far too large for me. I could have fitted by entire clan in the one room. An agent had brought me my bow, quiver and pack. They were left abandoned on the sofa. _I was alive._ I couldn’t quite believe it. I took my knife out of my boot and played with it, twisting it between my fingers. _Inquisitor._ Where had I heard that title before? I couldn’t remember. I lay back, staring at the ceiling. _Leader._ A kind of keeper, I thought. _I cannot fuck this up._

I pushed the knife under my pillow, and I stood, suddenly restless and went to explore the two little side rooms. One of them had another small table on it. I dragged it out onto the balcony. I went back inside and emptied out the quiver, ignoring Solas’ pendant and the ripped prayer cloth, I picked up the statue of Mythal. Miraculously unbroken. I took out the statue of Mythal and went to put it on the table outside. I smiled, finally she could be outside. A proper Dalish shrine. Out there I could be the _Herald of Andraste,_ but in here I was myself. I knelt before the table, touching my _vallaslin._ I prayed my thanks until the sun began to set.

I got up slowly, my knees were numb, and my back was stiff. I went back inside to find a crate on the floor. I hadn’t heard anyone come in. There was a scrawled note on top.

 

_I was in Val Royeaux during the attack. Hope these are what you wanted. Mice._

 

The statues, I thought with delight. I pulled the lid off and the box was filled with sawdust. A rueful smile spread across my face, ‘what do I need to know?’ I asked the box and fished inside the box for the divined answer. I pulled out a statue. It was a man holding an arrow. His head was a skull, a wolf skull. I frowned, put the statue back in the box. Closed the lid and pushed it under the bed. _Deal with that tomorrow._ I rubbed my eyes, time to find the tavern. I was about to leave when I reconsidered, grabbed my knife from under the pillow raised it in a salute in the direction of the box and slipped it into my boot. _Try me._

* * *

I found the tavern at the middle level of the keep. There was a sign hanging already, it looked like an image of Andraste, her hand held out in a blessing. Someone had slapped a splatter of green paint over the hand. I looked at the painted blonde woman for a long moment, _ugg. Just looking at it made me want a drink._

I walked inside, there was a low-level cheer. I found Sera already passed out under a table.

‘She started the moment we got here,’ Varric explained.

I grinned at the idea and went to get myself a drink. I passed the Chargers, many drinks down. A lonely Dorian, who raised his cup to me, a number of agents, chantry women and Cullen’s soldiers. I finally made my way through the bar and instead of Flissa, a grumpy looking dwarf greeted me. While Cabot’s small talk was lacking, his ability to produce a bottle of wine on request was not.

Attempting to get back to Varric’s table was a minefield in an of itself. The news that the newly-titled inquisitor was here had spread like wildfire. I was toasted, handed cups of drinks and one agent rather worse for wear, kissed me squarely on the cheek and told me she would marry me. I thanked her, and her kind offer, but wouldn’t be taking her up on it any time soon.

I slumped down in the seat, with a puff of exhaustion.

‘Tough day?’ Varric asked.

I nodded and poured myself a cup. ‘And that was just getting back from the bar. Why is Dorian drinking by himself?’

Varric twisted in his chair, trying to spot the mage in the crowd, he turned back and shrugged, ‘didn’t know he was here.’

I laughed, ‘there’s barely enough tables as it is… actually. I’d better not get up again.’

‘Your wish, Inquisitor.’ He got up.

‘Wait…’ but he was gone. I let out another sigh. I could faintly hear Sera snoring under the table and shook my head.

I looked up when someone took Varric’s seat. It was Cole. ‘Lost and forgotten, he wanted you to have it. Old hurts, I can’t heal them.’

‘Cole?’ I questioned, ‘are you alright?’

He looked up, almost surprised at his surroundings. He titled his head looking at me, so that I could see his eyes peeking out from under his hair. ‘You remember me?’

I let out an awkward laugh, ‘of course I do, you warned us at Haven.’

‘Most people forget.’ He said dreamily, letting his blond hair fall back over his eyes.

I looked at him curiously, he was younger than I had previously thought. Young enough that he might not have been tattooed yet - if he was Dalish, that is. Varric reappeared with Dorian in toe, I looked across to them.

‘Really, Hellana, you don’t need to summon me.’ Dorian was disgruntled.

I looked back to Cole, but he was gone. I blinded twice, and Varric took his seat.

‘I… didn’t… Varric?’

Varric shrugged, ‘I asked him to join, he said no. What did you want me to do?’

I shook my head laughing, ‘I didn’t summon you. But, now that you’re here.’ I grinned wicked. ‘Anyone fancy helping me find the bottom of this bottle?’

‘Like you need any help!’ Sera’s slurred voice came from below the table.


	33. Blame Game

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Someone has to be blamed for Corphyeus' attack, right?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry that this chapter is a little on the shorter side, I decided to split two chapters in half for thematic reasons :D

I awoke mid-morning in a room I didn’t recognise. The sunlight streamed in through the stained-glass windows onto a curved seat. There were tapestries and scarves and all manner of junk pined to the walls. My back ached as I sat up and I realised I was one the floor. There was a raised bench, and I saw Sera’s sleeping form. I rubbed my head, the space between my eyes ached. I out see the main keep of Skyhold out of the window, _was I still in the tavern?_ I stumbled to my feet and left.

 

There were far too many stairs between me and a change of clothes. I could see why I hadn’t attempted the trip the night before. The room started spinning so I lay on the bed. I couldn’t remember much after I had entered the tavern. I had hoped to speak to Dorian, future two, _had someone called me inquisitor there?_ I couldn’t remember. There was a knock at the door which pulled me from my daydream. I looked around and realised that the door was at the bottom of the stairs, I paced over to the banister. ‘Come up,’ I called. Then realised with a panic that the jawbone pendant was lying on the bed where I had left it yesterday, with a glance towards the staircase I shoved it under the pillow. _Didn’t want anyone getting the wrong idea._

After a few moments and a clicking of heels, Josephine appeared at the top with a stack of papers. Typical, I knew that they would be keeping an eye on me.

‘There you are.’ She smiled, ‘do you mind if we discuss some things?’

I nodded, ‘sure, of course…’ I glanced around the little room and gave her the sofa. I sat back cross-legged on the bed, which had been untouched during the night. She raised a slight eyebrow but didn’t question it.

‘So, first thing, we were wondering what to do about this orb?’

‘Good, I’ve been thinking on it. Ideally, we’d find the temple and see if there are any texts lying about.’

Josephine made a quick scribble drop on a piece of paper. ‘And if we cannot find the temple?’

I leaned forward, my elbows resting on my knees. ‘It’s more than possible that it’s been destroyed or built over. We might find more answer in a library than the field. That’s why I would like to bring my Keeper here. She can help with research efforts.’

She nodded, making meticulous notes. ‘And if we find nothing?’ She looked up.

My blood chilled. I held out my hand, ‘we already know what the orb does. It’s just a lead.’

‘… a lead.’ She repeated softly. She popped her clipboard down on the seat. ‘And you _just_ want your Keeper? What about the rest of your clan?’

I laughed bitterly, ‘I can’t deny I want to see them again. But…’ I considered, the _aravel,_ the halla, the hunting grounds. _They wouldn’t just leave it all behind._ ‘What is your question?’

Josephine smiled lightly, ‘I… we’ she paused, twisting a ring on her finger. ‘We worry that…’ She sighed shaking her head, I had never seen the ambassador speechless, she kept her eyes on the floor. ‘I am concerned that bringing your Keeper will ask too many questions, questions that may reflect poorly on the inquisition.’

‘You think they’ll blame us?’

Josephine nodded, then looked up to me, ‘...we want to protect you from that.’

 _And yourselves. Fools, madwomen and traitors._ Cassandra’s words floated through my head.

‘There is another option.’ Josephine said more steadily, ‘Corypheus appears to be a darkspawn magister with a dragon, he may have found the orb, perhaps corrupted it in ancient Tevinter.’

I stood, ‘so we call this a blight and blame Tevinter?’ I asked incredulously.

‘The only darkspawn that we have seen is Corypheus, himself. It doesn’t appear to be a blight.’

‘So, it isn’t a blight, just… what chaos?’ I asked pacing back and forth in front of the bed.  

She chuckled a little grimly, ‘the Imperium would shed no tears if the south fell to chaos.’

I raised my hands slightly, frustrated, ‘so we just blame Tevinter…’ I considered for a moment, I didn’t like the Imperium, what Dalish did? ‘Dorian is going to love that.’

Josephine cleared her throat.

I turned, ‘… we wouldn’t tell him.’ I said barely louder than a whisper. I sat down heavily on the side of the bed. Mind racing. ‘I shouldn’t decide this.’ I whispered horrified.

‘You are our inquisitor.’

The title rattled around my head like a curse. They would let me decide, then when things went wrong… I didn’t know why I hadn’t realised that before. Raise me up. I looked to the window. I was literally given the highest room. I had glanced over the side of the thick balcony railing, I knew how far it was to fall. ‘I cannot decide yet.’ I said, hoping that I was striking a diplomatic tone. ‘We need more information.’

Josephine nodded, ‘we will put together a research team.’

I nodded, ‘put Dorian on the team. Whatever the truth was, he deserved to know it.’

She raised an eyebrow but picked up her notes and made a few scratchy notes. It appeared our conversation had been off the record. She pulled out another scrap of paper, ‘I was also asked to let you know, there will be an ‘elven marker raising’, she pronounced the words carefully and glanced up to see if I understood, I nodded. ‘At dusk, in the garden.’

I took an unsteady breath, of course there would be. I cursed my own selfishness, I should have risen a marker the night before. Then I looked up, ‘where is the garden?’

Josephine smiled, ‘that, I can help you with.’


	34. An Offering to Falon’din

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The elves of Skyhold gather to erect a marker to their kin who fell at Haven. Lavellan begins to understand her destiny.

The marker making was the exact opposite of the one I had performed in Haven. For a start I was simply taking part. I was given a touch as I entered the garden and made my way around the back of a small group. There must have been about twenty, twenty-five people there. I found Dalish and stood next to her, she looked across and gave me a grim nod. There were far more elves in the castle than I had realised, but I barely recognised anyone. I glanced at the clothing, servants, maids and cooks mostly, the smallest handful of agents. The elves that were here were not in high positions. I looked up at the open sky, _I will change this, if I can_ , I promised the gods. I glanced around again, only half had _vallaslin,_ I frowned, maybe they were curious. 

The ritual was simple, the marker was made, and a prayer was said to Falon’din. The disparate little group answered together as one. I was struck suddenly my how easy it could be, the clans were weak because they each kept their own traditions and schools of thought. We looked to our differences, when really, we should be looking to our similarities. I was considering this as the ritual ended. We put out our touches, blanketing the little garden in darkness. Food and spirits were passed around, and I enjoyed it. No one was looking to me for answers, no one cared what I thought, no one called me the Herald of Andraste. Under the light of the star-studded sky, I was with my people, I was home.

I left the garden that night, almost hopeful.

* * *

Dreams didn’t bother my sleep that night, and I woke refreshed. I scribbled a quick letter off to Keeper Deshanna. To tell her that we had found Skyhold and that I had asked if she would join us, I didn’t add any code. I optimistically hoped that I would see her again soon. I sealed the letter and left my quarters intending to find the rookery. I ventured down into the main hall, I spotted Varric and went over. ‘Admiring the dwarf?’ He asked smirking.

I rolled my eyes, ‘of course. Any chance you know where the rookery is?’

He nodded, then turned and pointed at two doors, ‘either will get you there, I’d go through that one.’ He said with a wink.

I blinked, uncertain what to make of his. ‘Is it quicker?’

‘You’ll see.’

‘Thanks…’

 

Uncertain I went through the door he advised. It was a large circular room, I heard the sound of rustled feathers and the cawing of ravens. I looked up, the rookery. I smiled. I just needed to get up, there were two doors out of the room, and I paused unsure. In that moment I noticed the murals on the wall, ‘June’s mercy.’ I swore, stepping closer to get a better look. I reached out.

‘Don’t!’

I froze and looked around sheepishly. ‘You have a habit of hiding in shadows.’

‘I am hardly hiding, because you are not paying attention.’ Solas was stood by the door, his arms loosely folded. I must have walked straight past him. He was wearing a loose shirt, rolled up at the sleeves, which was splatted with paint.

That was fair, and I admitted to myself he looked good in the shadows. I shook my head. ‘how do I get up there?’ I asked pointed upwards.

There was a desk in the centre of the room, he walked towards it and placed some brushes down. He tilted his head to my right-hand door. ‘You have paint on your face.’ I say by way of thank you.

He frowned and brushed at his face with the back of his hand, completely missing the streak above his lip.

I indicated on myself and saw movement out of the corner of my eye. I looked up to see Dorian poised over a railing watching. _I should have left that man in Redcliffe._ I thought furiously. I dropped my hand and turned back to the paintings, ‘they’re very good.’ I said almost too quietly, not quite trusting my voice.

Solas came besides me to view the murals with me. Butterflies appeared in my stomach, making havoc. ‘Just a record of what you’ve done…’ he paused, ‘what the inquisition has done.’ He corrected.

They were beautiful, in their own stylistic way. Oddly, they reminded me of the ancient wall painting, flaked and fading, that dotted Thedas. I tilted my head, ‘the breach was green?’ The statement coming out like a question, indicating towards the first part.

Solas sucked in a little breath, ‘it was.’ He looked at me, he licked his bottom lip, ‘but I had some drakestone orange that I thought could be put to good use.’

I smiled despite myself, ‘a very good use.’ I confirmed. I paused trying to find the right words, then I glanced up at the balcony overlooking the rotunda. Dorian stuck both his thumbs up at me. I rubbed my eyes and gave Solas a weary smile. ‘Perhaps another time?’

His eyes were bright, ‘somewhere more interesting?’

I nodded, gave him a little smile and took the righthand door. There was a curved staircase, I stopped for a moment halfway up and lent against the wall. _If only we’d been alone, I could have helped him get the paint off, I could have tried to get that shirt off. We’d been running around half of Thedas for weeks… I wonder what he’d look like with that shirt off._ I clapped my hand over my mouth and giggled silently to myself. I bit my finger lightly, to bring myself back to the present. I shook my head and continued up the stairs.

‘You’re looking flushed,’ Dorian commented as I passed him.

‘Too many stairs,’ I replied without looking at him.

He made a noise that said he didn’t believe me, I stuck up a rude _shem_ hand gesture for good measure and continued on.

 

Round and round, more stairs and I finally found Leliana, she smiled grimly when she saw me, ‘Inquisitor.’

I ignored the title, ‘I have something to send.’

She nodded, and looked down, ‘there is no translation…’

I smiled, ‘it’s in Trade. I didn’t feel up to practising the old scripts.’

Her eyes were piercing, and I tried to shrug off their power. I shouldn’t have written in Trade, now she suspected there was a code. She gave me a look then relaxed into a gentle smile, ‘I will send it for you this afternoon.’

I thanked her and turned to leave, but she called me back. ‘One moment, I have something for you.’

Oh no, I was weary of Leliana bringing gifts, it would either be a title or a traitor.

She put a small bag of coins down on the table.

‘What is…?’

‘For Sera,’ she eyed me up and down, ‘for when _we_ lose that bet.’

I inhaled sharply, flushed. Babbled a couple of nonsensical words. Tried to protest but found I didn’t have the heart for it. I took the coins. _Fen’heral take them all._ I thought pitifully as I left.


	35. Once upon a Dream

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lavellan has plenty of bad dreams, but sometimes they get better.

I was waiting for Josephine, she had asked to meet with me, but was delayed. I had been waiting patiently, but I found myself fiddling. I looked up at the looming woman standing over me, wearing the spiked crown. I didn’t think I’d seen this particular statue, it reminded me of one that I’d seen to back in my home country. The deep-set eyes chiselled far into the stone made it seem like Andraste was watching me. I shifted slightly and the shadowy eyes followed.

‘Did I disturb your devotion?’ Josephine asked, I spun around, but couldn’t see her.

I looked up nervously at the statue of Andraste, had she always held a sword. Great dark eyes blinked. ‘Traitor.’ The statue barked at me, in a gravelly voice.

I took a step back.

‘Fool.’ She shouted so loud that the ceiling beams shook.

‘Madwoman.’ She pronounced and I felt the floor wobble beneath me, ‘you will burn.’

The statue knelt, pieces of rock flying off as the stone limbs moved into new positions. Her voice was close, confidential, ‘you will burn.’ She predicted and smiled, an ugly line drawing deep in the rock of her face. She laughed, standing, raising the sword over her head. ‘Run, little hare.’

My legs resisted for a second, and then I was running. How far was it to the double doors and out of this place. I ran and ran, heart pounding in my ears. Chest burning. I desperately dart to the left, and the huge stone sword swung down at the place that I had been moments ago.

‘Why are you doing this?’ I called, breathless.

She pulled her sword out of the chantry floor, leaving a broken pebbled pit, ‘pretender!’ She screamed in a voice that echoed thick with red lyrium, ‘you stole what is not yours!’

‘Please,’ I begged, frantic, backed away from her, ‘I didn’t want this.’

‘But you didn’t stop this.’

She gave a war-cry and began running towards me, I could only back away. I fell backwards out of the chantry doors and down the steps. I crawled backwards, as fast as I could scurry away. ‘I don’t want to be your damn herald!’

Solas appeared on my left, he skidded into a knee next to me, ‘quickly,’ he hissed grabbing my left hand and directing a bolt of green light at the statue of Andraste.

The statue screeched like a dragon, the sound screaming across the sky, she was pieced with green shards and then blinded out of existence. The air became calm, empty, clean.

I let out a shaky breath and glanced across. ‘Thank you.’

‘Ahh, the chosen of Andraste,’ He stood, and held out a hand.

I shuddered at the thought, I clenched my hands into a fist. I looked up, he was laughing at me. I shot him a scowl but took his hand and let him help me up. ‘Are you going to turn red?’

He blinked, the laugh died, confusion flicked across his eyes.

I looked him over suspiciously, his eyes were clear of the red mist. I reached out cautiously, he pulled back a little, but froze when my hand touched his side. He was warm and firm. I closed my eyes tightly, imagining the red shard that would spring out and go through my hand, nothing happened. I opened one eye slowly and then the other. I let out a little breath of relief, I nodded, ‘good.’  

He raised an eyebrow and I realised I still had my hand just above his hip. I pulled my hand back. I sighed and moved intending to sit on the little grey wall, ‘if I say I’m sorry, do you promise not to go red?’

I heard the stones crunch as he followed behind me. I stopped before the little wall and leaned on it gently, the breach was swirling up in the sky, had it always been golden orange? I shook the thought out of my head.

Solas stood next to me. ‘What are you sorry for?’

I laughed bitterly, ‘for leaving, for not leaving quick enough, for the mess I made in the future.’ I put my head in my hands, brimming with regret and shame.

‘Forget it,’ he said lightly.

I smiled, but doubted that it reached my eyes, ‘Unlikely. Wait why are you here? I mean, besides,’ _helping me again._ I waved my hand at the chantry, hoping that the action would do instead of words.

He looked over to the chantry as though studying it, ‘you fear that Andraste will strike you down?’

I nodded, crossed my arms together and slouched, dropping my chin onto my arms, ‘wouldn’t you?’

‘Worry or strike you down?’ He said with a chuckle.

I gave him my best disapproving Cassandra look. _Like he could strike me down._ ‘Why are you here?’ I asked again.

‘It’s an interesting place.’

I rolled my eyes, that wasn’t an answer. But I glanced up half expect to see Dorian waving at me. Then I looked around, Haven was empty, we were completely alone. I felt dizzy. I took his shoulders and pulled him down to me, kissing him. Light and chaste and perfect.

I pulled back, looked away. _What was I thinking, what wasn’t I thinking?_

His eyes were on my lips, and then his teeth with on my lower lip, a gentle bite. I gasped and his tongue was in my mouth. His hands on my hips, walked me back a pace till I was pressed against the wall, he stepped between my legs, a hint of hardness against my thigh. I moaned, a quiet sound in the back of my throat. _He felt good._ I crunched the back of his shirt, pulling him closer, I wanted to run my nails down his back.

I leaned back to see his face, he growled and took me back, fierce and animalistic. A hand snaked up into my hair, pulling in a good way I shuddered with pleasure, thinking of the painter’s hands, begging, asking, taking. I felt my hands find his waist, even now, I needed to check. His skin was smooth, taut and firm.  _I needed to get him out of those clothes._

I gasped for air, laughing, _this was impossible, impossible, and he felt so good_. I let a smug smile settle on my face, ‘this _is_ going to be a good dream.’

Solas set his hands squarely on my waist and stepped back, his mouth was tight, he shook his head, ‘we cannot. Not even here.’

‘Wait, what?’

‘It’s time to _wake up_.’


	36. An Act of Adoration

I woke up, breathing hard. I rubbed my eyes, and then sat up letting them adjust to the light. It was night time, but the pale yellowy moonlight streamed through the large stained windows of the large room at the top of the tallest tower of Skyhold. I shrugged myself into some clothes, trying to stop my mind racing. I ventured around the room lighting touches to chase away the night. For a room without a fireplace, it was always surprisingly warm, but I tugged at my collar, I was too warm. I walked onto the little balcony. The night air was cold and sharp, but it felt good to under the open sky. I felt a little shaken from the dream but tried to forget it. _My brain was obviously trying to kill me_. I rubbed my eyes again, I was getting nightmares most nights now. I needed to do something about that. _Maybe if I could just remain awake forever_. I noticed that the lights in the courtyard were still bright. I could probably fit in a few rounds at the Tavern, which had been named Herald’s Rest, much to my annoyance. _Maybe if I drank enough to pass out dreams wouldn’t haunt me_. I grabbed my coin purse and set off down the stairs, intending to find Sera, or Dorian, or anyone really.

In the dark I walked right into someone coming up the stairs.

‘Have I caught you at a bad time?’ Solas, of course it was. He had an unfailing ability to turn up at exactly the worst times.

I took a moment to attempt to compose myself, ‘just going to drink myself into oblivion…’ I waved my hand, ‘never mind, it isn’t a bad time. Please, come up.’

He shifted awkwardly on the stairs, pausing for a moment too long.

‘I, uh, have bad dreams. I’m… self-medicating.’ I said by way of explanation and returned the way I’d came without waiting for a response.

‘Thought it was a good dream’. He said under his breath, low enough I could barely hear it.

I froze, heart beating too quickly, he walked into me, I span around to face him. I was at the top of the stairs, he was a step down, for that moment we were the same height. ‘What did you say?’ I hissed.

He looked unsure and didn’t look at me.

‘Were you… in my dream?’ I said horrified.

‘I should apologise, it got out of hand. I didn’t expect for that,’ he paused finding the right words. ‘The kiss was impulsive, I should not have encouraged it.’

 _Fenedhis_. I backed away a little, unsure, ashamed. Then laughed, the sound was sharp and almost hysterical. I couldn’t help myself, this is absurd _._ _Who the hell are you?_ I thought, but decided instead to ask a safer question, ‘would you like a drink?’

 ‘No, thank you’.

I walked over to the bookcase, tossed a large tome aside. Behind it was a good bottle of Orlesian spirits, hidden from Sera’s prying eyes and grabby hands. I nodded left the glasses on the shelf and drank a large sip of the amber liquid directly from the bottle. ‘Are you a dream-walker?’

‘ _Somniari_ ’

‘ _Somniari_ ,’ I tasted the unfamiliar word, I’d heard stories of the rare ability but never believed such an ability was possible. Let alone that I would meet one… or have my dreams invaded by one. I smiled to myself, impossible things always happened around Solas. ‘How does it work?’ I queried, allowing my curiosity to engulf my initial unease.

‘Walking in a dream? Is just like moving in the fade. You dream in the fade.’ He said easily, like I was asking for a recipe.

‘But, I’m not a mage’. I laughed, then I looked down at my left hand. I scowled at my hand and took another sip.

‘You wield powerful magic’. _Stolen magic_ the red lyrium voice echoed in my head. ‘It was easy to find you once I thought of looking, the mark is raw and new.’

‘And… have you seen my dreams before?’

‘No, only tonight.’

‘Good’, I felt myself flush.

‘Do you dream about me often?’ He asked playfully, a careless question.

I didn’t trust myself to speak. Silence. It stretched on and answered his question for me.

I moved over to the bed, I sat cross legged and indicated for him to take the sofa. He considered for a moment and sat next to me instead, he took the bottle from my hands touching for a heartbeat. ‘It’s easier in the fade,’ he said, taking a swig and his face scrunched up in disgust.

I put my hand to my mouth to cover my giggle. ‘It’s strong stuff.’

He gave me a concerned look and handed back the bottle.

‘What now?’ I asked softly.

He shook his head, ‘we should not, it could be dangerous.’

I laughed, ‘dangerous? Of course, this whole thing is dangerous.’ He didn’t look happy with that. It clicked, _I was dangerous._ I felt my shoulders slump, _I did command a stupid army. He was under my command, did he feel duty bound?  ‘_ I’m so sorry, of course, I didn’t mean to abuse my position.’ I wanted to scream, I put my head in my hands, this was going so badly. I found the bottle and drank.

Solas chuckled, took my cheek in his hand, forcing me to look at him, ‘no, that is not what this is about. You are surprising, from the moment you closed the first rift the whole world changed.’

His hand was warm, I licked my lower lip and looked down, ‘sweet talker.’ I mumbled, a sly smile. He kissed me then, a simple act of adoration, an offering, a silver plate of ripe fruit placed at the feet of some distant deity. Except I was no god shirking my duties, I responded, full of delight and wonder at such an unassuming gift. My hand snaked out to his hip, unconsciously checking that he was real.

He pulled back, eyebrows tight together, ‘may I take a little time, there are… considerations.’

‘Take all the time you need.’

He stood, smoothed out his shirt, ‘I should…’ He moved towards the stairs.

‘Solas?’ He turned back.

‘Stay out of my dreams.’ I added playfully, not really minding if he did or not.

He smirked, the little smile reached his sky-blue eyes ‘of course,’ and left.

I heard the click of the door, and I was alone again. I lay back on the bed and grabbed my pillow holding it close, _what a night._


	37. Statues and Secrets

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lavellan finally remembers to unpack the little box of statues that Mice made for her. She wants to go the pub, doesn't she always(?), but gets distracted.

The next morning, I found myself still clothed on the bed. I sat up, hearing birdsong. I had not intended to sleep. I closed my eyes again rolling onto my back and let myself remember the night. _It was going to be a good day._ I decided.

When I eventually decided it was about time to get up, I swung my legs down to discover where I had left the bottle of Orlaisian brandy, it knocked over, glugging across the floor. ‘Piss.’ I swore, desperately grabbing at the bottle before I lost more of it. _Good start._ I wrinkled my nose is disgust; the whole room was going to smell like a brewery. I moved over to open the balcony doors and noticed the wooden crate that I had left abandoned a couple of days before. I pulled the lid off, carefully lying it against the wall. Then I fished into the sawdust and packing paper to find the statues. Each were as delicately carved as Mythal’s and painted in exquisite colours. They were each roughly the same height and I smiled broadly. I would have to give Mice a tip for these.

I picked them up gently and ventured outside to add them to the little table. They were stunning all together, and I moved back inside to get a bowl of water. I knelt and I placed the bowl before the nine gods and lightly sprinkled each with the cool water. ‘I give you sight.’ I whispered to each one. Purifying them as vessels, eyes for which the gods could look through. I sat back on my heels, satisfied. I put my fingers to my _vallaslin_ and prayed.

I paused by the staircase, I was planning on seeing Sera as we’d barely spoken since arriving at Skyhold. I wasn’t sure if I should give her the money that she won on the bet we’d made in Haven. While, I had promised her I would tell her, I also felt like it might violate whatever trust Solas and I had established the night before. I was brooding on the situation when I ran into Josephine, she smiled broadly and ushered me into her little office room.

She handed me a little document triumphantly, I turned it over in my hands. I didn’t recognise the language, but it was wrapped in a gold trimmed envelope and emblazoned with a sun seal. I looked up questioningly.

‘An invitation, to the Winter Palace. We are to be guests of Grand Duke Gaspard.’

I raised an eyebrow, placing the little packet on her desk and sitting down on the arm of a large armchair a couple paces away. ‘The Winter Palace?’

‘In Halamshiral, Leliana’s intelligence suggests it is likely it will be where Empress Celene is assassinated.’

I raised a hand asking her to stop for a moment, ‘you want me to go to Halamshiral?’ I gazed into the broad fireplace and worried the woven bracelet on my wrist. It should have been an important site to our people, but like everything important to us, it had been stolen and build over by the _shem._ How could I stroll in like I belonged, how could I play the game of politics in a desecrated sanctuary?

‘The ball is a month away,’ Josie continued smoothly. ‘Grand Duke Gaspard and the Empress have been locked in a civil war for too long, fighting over the throne.’

‘And I have to go?’ I repeated dumbly.

Josephine sighed, and looked concerned, ‘ideally.’

I nodded and walked away from the conversation. I felt numb. But I knew what I needed to do.

 

I paused on the way to Herald’s Rest to visit Vivienne, she had set up her belongings on a small balcony that overlooked the main hall. Opposite from the dais, she literally looked down on the seat of power. Madame der Fey looked particularly well, she was taking tea with an Orlais noble when I approached, though she quickly shooed the masked man away when I approached. I gave him a moment to gather himself and I considered the quest before me. I felt uneasy, however much I didn’t want to go to Halamshiral, I knew I had to. I knew I would need Vivienne’s help, but I didn’t want her to know how terrified of the Winter Palace I was. I felt an odd kinship to her, I recognised her Free Marches accent, but knew she was still a _shem._ I had no idea how this was going to go. The man bowed to me and retreated, _now or never_.

‘My dear,’ she smiled warmly and handed me a new cup of something that smelt of aniseed and honey. ‘What can I do for you?’

I sat down gently, and took a little sip, it was very good. ‘I…’ I considered my words. ‘We’re going to the Winter Palace…’

She clapped her hands, cutting me off, ‘wonderful, Josie got an invitation.’

I nodded and licked my lips, ‘you are familiar with the Orlaisan court?’  

Vivienne sat forward, a fire burned behind her eyes, ‘very familiar.’

‘Help me.’

‘Of course, my dear.’

‘Tell me more about the Empress.’

‘Ah.’ Vivienne paused, taking a little elegant sip of her tea, ‘you will not like it.’

I blinked, ‘tell me.’

The mage’s long fingers strummed lightly on the chaise longue, ‘the Empress is a shrewd woman, witty and wicked. But she is not as assured in her position as she likes to believe. She had done things you would not approve of.’

I gave her a look, I didn’t want to play the delicate game.

‘She burnt down Halamshiral to maintain her position… the slums.’ She added, with a little grimace.

A bitter taste rose in my mouth that even the pleasant tea could not wash away. ‘And this is the woman I must save to protect the future.’

‘So, it would seem.’

I glanced up her, raising an eyebrow.

‘While Celene is cruel, Gaspard is hardly any better. He is militaristic and I suspect that if he was allowed the throne Ferelden would be under attack.’

 _Orlaisan masks in Redcliffe Castle. In the future were the veil is gone. Was I supposed to prevent that future as well?_ ‘Is there anyone you’d recommend for the throne?’

Vivienne allowed herself a delicate peal of laughter, ‘well I would look good in a crown.’

I grinned, nodded, ‘you would.’

She sobered, ‘The Winter Palace is a cruel place, both sides will have spies here collecting information on you. You are a new faction, they will try to hurt you. They will try to destroy you.’

I couldn’t help myself, I glanced at the way the man in the mask had left.

Vivienne smiled, ‘very good. I told him that you particularly hated oranges and couldn’t dance.’

I shrugged, ‘I like orange?’

‘And when they are served to you at the Winter Palace, you’ll know you can trust me.’


	38. Blizzards?

I left Vivienne feeling better about the whole situation, and she’d even promised to teach me to dance. As I returned to the main hall, I saw Varric. I waved to him, and made a motion with my hand that said _drink?_ A slow smile spread across his face and we made our way out of the keep.

‘There is someone that I’d like you to meet.’ He said quietly.

I glanced down, ‘who?’

‘Someone who can help.’ He answered cryptically.

* * *

We found Sera sat with her feet up on a table, laughing raucously at something Blackwall was saying. She raised her hand when she saw me and beckoned us over.

‘Herald,’ Blackwall greeted, his shoulders straight, his tone overly formal, ‘I have a request.’

‘Let Inky sit first, broody beardy man!’ Sera complained, cutting through the formality as easily as a knife through butter.

Blackwall and I exchanged a confused glanced. ‘Inky?’ He queried.

Sera waved vaguely at me and then at her own forehead.

I smirked, ‘you know they’re called _blood_ writing.’

Her eyes widened and she gulped back almost falling off her stool. Blackwall was quick enough to get a hand behind her, ‘Maker, Sera.’ He swore, as he saved her from going arse over tit.

‘Buttercup’s feisty today, I’ll have whatever she’s having.’ Varric commented, indicating to Cabot to bring a round of drinks.

Sera grimaced, ‘weird day.’

Blackwall scowled, but looked back to me, ‘I’ve had some correspondence. Grey Warden camps are being found abandoned. Might have something to do with them going missing.’

‘Ugggg,’ Sera groaned. ‘Maybe it’s good that they’ve gone, means no blight.’

I ignored Sera’s comment, ‘you want to track these camps down?’

Blackwall nodded, his eyes were on the table.

‘Where?’

‘Ferelden.’

‘Piss.’ I couldn’t help tracking down the grey wardens and make my appearance in Halamshiral. If only I’d come here first.

Blackwall raised and eyebrow, while Sera smirked in the knowledge that she’s corrupted my language.

‘Go,’ I concluded.

Sera perked up, ‘I’ll go!’ She said cheerfully.

Varric glanced between the two, ‘if we can make a stop, I’ll come. I want to pick up a … friend.’

I sighed and let my face slip into a frown, ‘take Bull, have fun. Don’t die.’

‘Thank you, Inquisitor,’ Blackwall started, but I shook my hands at him.

‘None of that Inquisitor nonsense when I’m drinking.’ I said playfully, but firmly.

Varric cracked his knuckles, breaking through the moments tension, ‘Bianca was hoping for an adventure.’

Sera made a rude noise. ‘Who names their crossbow? That’s stupid, it’s just a thing.’

‘Someone’s jealous,’ Varric taunted.

I laughed, ‘maybe I should name my bow?’ I glanced around welcoming suggestions.

‘Heral…arrow?’ Sera frowned trying to make a portmanteau. She scrunched up her nose.

Varric shook his head, while Blackwall just patted Sera’s hand affectionately. ‘Do you have a name for your sword?’ Varric asked Blackwall.

He pondered for a moment, scratching his beard with his thumb and forefinger. ‘Slasher? Stabby? Pokey?’

Sera snorted, ‘shite, you can’t call a sword stabby.’

I nodded in mock solemnity, spreading my hands on the table, ‘it’s obviously a better name for a dagger.’

Varric considered, ‘go with pokey,’ he eyed Blackwall, ‘you seem like a pokey.’

Blackwall crossed his arms, unsure whether to take it as a compliment or not.

Sera sighed and glanced over to Blackwall. ‘So, you going to squeeze her or not?’

‘Sera, stay out of it.’ Blackwall growled at her, but he tugged at his sleeves nervously.

Varric and I exchanged a confused glance.

Sera shrugged, and huffed out a breath, and then turned her full attention to me. ‘So,’ she drawled, ‘any luck Inky?’

I sighed, ‘I had hoped you wouldn’t bring that up…’

She rolled her eyes, ‘pathetic, the lot of you…’ Her eyes widened in perfect shock and I slide the twocoin purses across the table at her. ‘I… I won?’ She stammered.

I blushed but nodded, expecting her to turn inquisitor.

She rubbed her hands together, ‘drinks on me, bitches!’ She jumped to her feet, swiping the coins off the table.

‘What was that about?’ Varric asked.

I crossed my arms and lay my head on the table, ‘I’m sure you’ll find out soon enough.’

* * *

The next morning, I sat bolt upright, I’d fallen asleep in Sera’s room again. She was sat crossed legged on her window seat.

‘Morning!’

I rubbed my eyes, then looked back to her, I tilted my head. Sera was… knitting?

She looked down at her craft, ‘it’s stabby sewing.’ She said by way of explanation and then folded the square of cloth up and packed the needles away.

I blinked at the unexpected turn of events and rubbed my eyes.

She patted on the seat next to her and I climbed up to sit beside her, ‘now.’ She demanded.

‘What time is it?’ I asked but did as she commanded.

She shrugged, ‘morning, afternoon,’ then glanced out of the window, ‘lunch? Doesn’t matter.’ She sighed and found a bottle of something and handed it to me.

I eyed the bottle carefully. The green glass meant that I wasn’t able to work out what the liquid was.

‘Juice.’

‘What happened last night?’ Bits and pieces were coming back to me, but I couldn’t keep track of the events.

Sera laughed, ‘you were nervous. Drank half a bottle of wine before Blackwall and I dragged you up here.’ She bit her lip, ‘it’s no fun if you’re upset.’  

I twisted my fingers together. Not looking at her.

She grabbed my hands, ‘all your secrets are safe.’

I relaxed a little, ‘all of them?’ I queried.

She nodded, and snorted, ‘Beardy’s best guess is that…’ she lowered her voice conspiratorially, ‘you’re not really an Andrastian.’  

I sat back, ‘you didn’t tell him?’

She shook her head. And put an arm around my shoulders. ‘I won’t even collect from Bull, if you don’t want me to.’

‘Thank you.’ I said sincerely, feeling a weight lifting off my shoulders.

‘Did it go bad?’ She asked quietly.

I paused, unsure how to answer her. Instead I studied the piles of clothing, books and vials piled up against the wall to the right of us. I didn’t know how Sera managed to collect so much junk.

‘You don’t have to tell me.’ She added.

I let out a breath, ‘it wasn’t bad.’

‘… but?’

I lent on her shoulder and put my hand in the air making little quote marks, ‘he needs time. I’m not sure what it means.’

Sera said something under her breath, I turned to her, ‘blizzards?’

She smirked and gave me a wink, ‘forget it.’


	39. In the Bowels of Halamshiral

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Set three weeks after the last chapter, half of the gang has got to Halamshiral. Preparations have begun to get them ready for the Winter Ball. Vivienne had set up a meeting for Lavellan with a potential ally.

I stabbed my Sylvanwood-handed knife into the rough table, rocking the tip back and forth slightly. The handle creaked slightly as I pulled it out of the dent that I’d made. I pulled my hood down again, conscious of the lines on my face. The tavern was hidden away in a back-alley in the slums of Halamshiral. Just getting here had stained my boots with a thick heavy mud, and I had caught my ankle twice on broken paving slabs. The stench of the place seared its way into my bones, the stale rot combined with sweet decay, all set against a background of copper and clay. I had grown up with the stories of Halamshiral, as a child I had imagined the place where the now-freed elves had been granted the Dales. I was Dalish because of this place, I wanted to soak in the walls and wander the halls of history. But whatever I had thought to find at the _Journey’s End, I now knew was simply a romantic notion._

* * *

_'She’s a child, Vivienne.’ I hissed._

_‘She looks sort of like you, if you look through the eyes of a sun-blind dwarf.’ Dorian added, smirking into a cup of wine._

_The girl didn’t raise her eyes from the floor, she must have been around fifteen years. While her hair was dark and curled in the same way as mine, she was a good hand shorter and her skin was too light. She held herself as small as possible, this was a girl who wanted to be unobserved. There is no way that anyone would have mistaken us. She was wearing a gold filigree half-mask, as I had crossed my arms in annoyance at the suggestion that we paint_ vallaslin _onto her face._

_‘She just needs to sit in the box and watch the play. No one will get close.’ Vivienne insisted._

_I stood back, a hand on my hip, frustration washed off me in waves, ‘and, you are sure your contact is worth this much risk?’_

_Vivienne gave me her best smile._

* * *

A commotion sounded from the other end of the little tavern, I suppressed the urge to glance around. But I did sneak my dagger back into my boot. _It would not do to get caught in a brawl._ I weighed the ceramic cup in my hands, thick gloves covered my hands and my mark. I had left my coin purse at Vivienne’s apartments, no wanting to be mugged on the way here. It had been remarkably easy to sneak down from the High Quarter, into the alienage. It wasn’t technically an alienage, I corrected myself. The cruel history of the place was etched into the streets, charred remains of timbers and roof tiles still littered the alleyways. Young children scavenged the blackened parts of the slum, picking over the remains like carrion. Leliana had told that the sun-empress had done it to quell rebellion, _she was weak, so she kicked down._ I schooled my features and did not let the snarl of disgust pass my face.   

* * *

_‘The Inquisitor should not go by herself.’ Cullen had demanded, his hands pressing down too hard on the delicate side table, making the legs squeak in protest._

_Solas nodded, putting down a document that he had been reading, ‘it is too dangerous.’_

_‘Let me go with her,’ Leliana insisted._

_I glanced around the opulent parlour, Cassandra sat in stony silence staring at a cup of tea she hadn’t touched. ‘Leliana, you will be noticed.’_

_Leliana took a little offence at that, ‘I am very well trained.’_

_Cassandra nodded, a small smile passing from the Right hand to the Left. ‘You have been invited to the theatre, to not attend would be to give away that something is amiss.’_

_Leliana barely reacted, but I caught her jaw tighten slightly._

* * *

I waited, patiently sipping my watered-down beer. _All this fuss over a play_. I was almost grateful to get out of it. A man approached the table, a slim elf with a blue-grey cloak. He sat down on the little stool opposite me and gave me a warm smile. ‘It is good to see you again old friend.’ He said a little loudly for the benefit of anyone listening in.

I gave him a careful nod.

He took my right hand, and pulled me across the table, a greeting. ‘Green-hand?’ He whispered.

‘Yes.’

He let go and sat back with a smirk, he titled his head. ‘Back room.’

* * *

_‘And why do you want me to meet this woman?’ I asked Vivienne._

_‘She knows the empress…’ Vivienne paused, considering her next word, ‘intimately. She is also an experienced player of the Game.’_

_I almost sighed, but Vivienne had been teaching me to school my emotions. Vivienne graced me with the upturned corner of her lip for my efforts. ‘So, a potential ally?’_

* * *

I followed the man in the blue-grey cloak through a doorway, the lock on the door had been smashed off. I eyed it apprehensively. Through the doorway led to a corridor, at the end of which was a small room. The man eyed me for a moment. I put a hand to a hidden dagger in my sleeve. ‘Pull back your hood.’

I did as he asked, revealing my _vallaslin._

He nodded and pulled back a rug to reveal a trap door. He lifted up the heavy wooden slates. ‘Follow it, turn right at the end.’ 

_Be brave, little hare._ I stepped forward and he gave me a hand to help me drop down through the trapdoor. The underground corridor smelt of damp earth and it was dark. He handed me a little lantern. I felt a sense of panic as he shut the trap drop down over my head. _Trapped underground._ There was nothing for it, I started walking. It had been three weeks since I’d left Skyhold and I almost missed it. The sounds of my heels echoed dully around the little tunnel, which drummed in tune to my heartbeat pounding in my ears. I almost prayed and remembered that the gods wouldn’t be able to hear. I should have given an offering before I left, I cursed my stupidity. The tunnel appeared to end, but as I approached, it branched into two directions. _Go right._

I followed it until light shone. There were some packed earthen steps. I ascended lightly.

‘Inquisitor.’ The masked woman said with delight, ‘I am so glad that you would join me’.


	40. The Seeds of Rebellion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lavellan meets with the city elves Ambassador. Lavellan realises she isn't scared anymore, just kinda angry, and it's time to try to do something about it. Tiny references to the Masked Empire.

‘Inquisitor. I am so glad that you would join me’. The masked woman said. She was sat on a large, comfy chair with a crackling fire to the left of her. The room was clean and smelt vaguely of fresh cut wood and crystal grace. She motioned to a seat in front of her, but off at a slight angle, and then she clicked at a slight woman I had not seen by the doorway that I had entered.

I nodded, ‘Ambassador.’ I took the seat.

‘Forgive me,’ the woman said, as the serving girl placed a bowl of water down in front of me with a cloth. ‘You understand, that I need to check that it is you.’

I took a breath and pulled back my hood, I took the cloth that was offered. Gently dipping it into the water and then I rubbed my forehead. I tossed the cloth back into the bowl. The ambassador leaned closer for a second to see that my _vallaslin_ had not washed off. She settled back into her chair, ‘and may I see your hand.’

Without showing a hint of annoyance, I pulled my left glove off. The green light flared, and the serving girl gasped. The ambassador dismissed her without a word. ‘And do you have any reassurances for me?’ I queried lightly.

She handed me a mask, gilded with opals and gold. I didn’t recognise it, but Vivienne had described it to me. I returned it to her, as satisfied as I could be.

‘So Inquisitor,’

‘Hellana, please.’ I interrupted.

She gave me an exaggerated nod, as though she was humouring me. ‘May I get you anything to drink before we begin.’

I gave her a genuine smile, ‘wine, red, if you have it.’

The ambassador’s peal of laughter rang out, ‘I do.’ She stood gracefully and busied herself behind me for a few moments. I watched the firelight, and I noticed on the top of the mantlepiece a little statue of a woman holding a bow, not a woman, Andruil. Caught up with my curiously, I forgot to watch her pour the wine. Stupidity, or trusting. She might poison my wine or bring a dagger to my throat. She handed me a finely cut glass and took one herself. I tilted the glass slightly, checking the quality and for tell-tale undissolved grains. She raised her glass with me and we each took a sip.

‘ _Ma serannas, lethallan_ ,’ I said testing her.

The elven woman laughed bitterly, ‘are you trying to trick me into friendship, by calling me kin?’

I almost laughed, she’d seen right through me. Instead, I shook my head, and placed down my glass on the tiled floor, which gave out a satisfying ring. I considered for a moment, I was about to go off-script. ‘Not trick you, just remind you we have a common enemy.’

She cast a wary eye over me, perhaps I was not what she was expecting. ‘do we?’

I splayed my hands, ‘the _shem_ that took our birth right.’

‘What do you know of it, Dalish.’ She used the word like a curse, but there was a hint, a hint of recognition in her eyes that powder and mask couldn’t conceal. _Why would she keep a statue, unless she believed, or wanted to believe?_

‘Truly? Nothing. I had heard stories, but nothing could have prepared me for what I’ve seen since I arrived.’

She took a sip of her wine, ‘not as good as living in a forest?’ The distain was clear in her tone.

I laughed then, ‘I’m sure each has its disadvantages.’ Diplomatic, although I couldn’t see any advantages of remaining in Halamshiral, but stubborn refusal to be bullied into leaving. ‘But so long as each think they have it better than the other, change will not come.’

She glanced down at her wine glass, ‘did Mihris send you?’

‘Who?’ I asked honestly.

She squinted, studying my face. ‘Felassan then?’

I shook my head, ‘I know no one by that name, Vivienne arranged our meeting.’

The ambassador nodded carefully, lost in thought for a moment. ‘I can see why Vivienne likes you.’

I gave her a weak smile.

She smiled, then frowned. ‘Why should I trust a Dalish? You can be fickle in your friendship, I thought your people didn’t see the point of helping us _knife-ears_.’ She gave me no expression, but her words were bitter, and they made me wonder if she’d had dealings with the clans before.

I gave her a hundred expressions, _she’s reading me like a book,_ ‘then don’t trust me,’ I raised my hands simply, honestly, ‘I have no interest in playing this game, I am not going to hide my face or my motive. I’m here for two reasons.’

‘Which are?’

‘I would like to be your ally. And I want you to answer a question for me.’ I picked up the glass of wine, took a sip, very drinkable.

The ambassador gave me a scrutinising look, she took her mask off, which I had not expected. Her face with thin, tan lines circled her eyes where the sun had leaked through the holes in her mask. We must have been of a similar age. ‘You want my network.’ She stated, laying the mask on her lap.

I shook my head, ‘keep it.’

She raised a careful eyebrow, portraying only the emotion she wanted. Her natural face was just another mask. ‘How generous.’ She sat back. ‘And what is the question?’

I sat forward, elbows on my knees. ‘We have intelligence that the empress will be assassinated the night of the Winter Ball.’

Her face remained impassive, but her pretty leaf-ears twitched. Which confirmed Vivienne’s suspicions.

‘Would you like me to act on this information?’ I asked steadily.

She tapped her fingers lightly on the edge of the glass, considering. I understood why Vivienne liked her and why she had wanted us to meet. ‘Ask me on the night of the Ball.’

I nodded, I would do that. I glanced back at the fireplace. I had been supposed to blackmail her into helping the inquisition, see if I could recruit her and her spy network. I stood, and paced over to the little statue of Andruil, I placed my glass by the side of her and touched my _vallaslin._ Andruil stood as the common ground between us. The ambassador stood and joined me. I glanced at her, with no _vallaslin,_ I would have asked how she thought she could dare approach the gods or ask why she thought they would hear her underground. But I held my tongue, I wasn’t a purist after all.

‘Ambassador,’ I began.

‘Briala.’ She interrupted.

‘Briala,’ I confirmed, ‘it appears that the _shem_ have risen me up in this moment, what can the Inquisition for you?’

‘The people in power are used to ignoring us. Make sure they can’t.’

I gave her a sly smile, ‘I will do my best.’


	41. All of Orlais' a Stage

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lavellan gets to hear all about the play she missed...

Briala had escorted me back to the High Quarter. She guided me with ease through the twisting maze of roads and walkways, skilfully avoiding guards. We slipped unnoticed through the shadows. Her mask was back on her face, and a cloak around her head, she guided me up a broad stone staircase, we snuck around a high wall and I recognised the back of Vivienne’s apartments.

‘I am sorry that you had to miss the play,’ she said, although she didn’t sound regretful at all. ‘Until the Ball,’ and disappeared. Melting away into the sleeping night air.

Once I was alone, I found my hands trembling. I took a steadying breath and snuck into through the back gate that had been left open for me. I locked it behind me. A guard came rushing towards, but I lowered my hood and she nodded. ‘Welcome back, your worship.’

I stood frozen for a second, the title rattling around me brain. _I didn’t like it at all._ I moved past the guard, and I heard her turn to bolt the gate. I walked along the little terrace and came to a large blue double door. I opened it tentatively and peaked inside, I could hear raised voices and it sounds like they had gotten back from the play. Taking my cloak off and folding it over my arm, I followed the sound of the voices. Light spilled into the little corridor from what I knew to be a large parlour room, the door was creaked open.

‘…absolute shambles.’

‘…don’t know what Celene is playing at!’

‘You think this was Celene’s doing?’ Vivienne contested.

‘Who else?’ Josephine replied. ‘We were invited by the Grand Duke. She would assume we are on his side.’

‘Are we not?’ Leliana asked.

I pushed through the door, and the argument stopped. A sea of seeming nobility turned to face me, resplendent all in their evening’s finery.

‘Oh goodie, you survived.’ Dorian greeted, he had dark purple eyeliner on making his eyes seem impossibly big. He was also drinking, but that would mean anything. Solas was stood behind him, leaning against the wall arms crossed with a frown on his face.

I placed the folded cloak over the back of a Josephine’s chair, ‘how was the play?’

The moment’s silence gave me the answer I was looking for, ‘not ideal.’ Cullen said, almost immaculate in his red and gold uniform. Though his fur collar was sticking up oddly, giving him the look of a disturbed lion.

‘It was poorly done.’ Cassandra added, she was slumped down in a chair, head in her hands. I gave her a double take, she was wearing a dress. Well, a long armoured tunic, still emblazoned with that unblinking eye.

‘Oh, goodie.’ I said, repeating Dorian’s words, which earned me a scowl from Cassandra and a heavy sigh from Cullen. Dorian though raised a cup to me with a little smirk. ‘Anyone want to tell me what happened?’

Dorian drained his cup, and placed it a little hard on the table, ‘a play about the corruption of the golden city, lessons to be learned about hubris and causing a blight and all that.’  

I shrugged, ‘that doesn’t sound too bad.’ But my sure voice failed, and my statement turned into a question.

‘One,’ Cullen started looking at me, and then looking down, ‘… one of the magisters had a green burn… on their hand.’

I blinked at him.

‘Played by a woman,’ Solas added, watching me intensively with his hungry sky-blue eyes, ‘an elf.’ He clarified.

My mouth dropped into an o, then I laughed and couldn’t stop. ‘Me?’ I spluttered. _That was a new one._ I felt like jumping up and down at the Winter Palace and pointing at my face, _why can none of you idiots get my religion right? The answer is literally on my face._ I imagined all the scandalised faces behind the painted masks. The idea was so funny that I doubled over.  

‘This is serious.’ Cassandra chastised, her whole body was practically rippling with anxiety. ‘Connecting the Inquisition to the Imperium. Connecting you to the Magisters.’ Dorian huffed at that. ‘Distancing you from the chantry.’

I didn’t allow myself to smile, distancing me from the chantry could only be a good thing. I paused, considering, ‘did anyone find out that I wasn’t there?’ I asked, remembering that little girl dressed up as me, had gone in my place.

It was Vivienne who answered, her headdress was sitting dejectedly on the empty seat next to her. ‘No, we left early in protest.’

Still lightly chuckling to myself, I relaxed, I went to pour myself a glass of wine, ‘a good night’s work then.’ I sat down, crossed my legs. But the stony silence was deafening. I looked around the grim faces, ‘what?’

Red splotched crept up Cullen’s neck, he made a sort of strangled sound.

‘The question is how to respond,’ Josephine finished with a sharp tone. I suspected there was more, but they had seemed to agree to not tell me. ‘I could pull in some favours to denounce the play.’

Leliana sat back, her eyes dark and dangerous, ‘Let me send agents to work out who gave them the funds.’

Vivienne nodded slowly, ‘we should find out before the Ball. I can ask the Empress to arrest those responsible.’

‘Unless, she commissioned it,’ Josephine supplied with a grimace, the jewels around her neck dazzling in the candlelight.

I sat back with a sigh, ‘does it matter, it’s just a play. Is it worth responding?’

‘If you do not respond, the inquisition will look weak.’ Leliana whispered quietly, like she didn’t want to put the words into the air.

The tension weighed on me like a pile of bricks. I wished Sera was there, she’d make a rude noise and she’s reason that the whole thing was silly and nothing to get so worked up over. But she was in Feralden.

Vivienne sat forward, she twinned her fingers together, a pretty smile played on her face, ‘silent dignity? Weak or self-assured. All the better to underestimate us, my dear.’

Josephine looked between Vivienne and me, ‘so… we don’t respond.’

I held up a finger, thinking, ‘Leliana, can you find out who commissioned the play. It would be good to know, once we have more information. We can decide.’

She nodded.

‘How was Ambassador Briala, my dear?’ Vivienne asked after the heartbeats had trickled past.

I smiled, ‘I like her, I think we can work together.’ I shuffled, the room was looking at me. I had gone in order to recruit her to the Inquisition. I cleared my throat, ‘I believe the she is on side.’ I glanced to Leliana and then to Josephine, ‘I think if we support her, we will have a stable ally in Orlais.’

Josephine nodded. But Vivienne frowned, her fingers lightly strumming on the arm of her chair, ‘so you have no use for her spy network?’

I tried to give her a reassuring smile, ‘I wanted to offer assistance, before I took anything.’

‘A wise strategy.’ Solas congratulated.

I gave him a nod and a little smile. Then I remembered, ‘Oh, Vivienne, do the names’ I desperately tried to remember what Briala had asked. ‘ugh, Menhis, Minres,’ I clicked my fingers, as if it would help me recall the name, ‘Mihris? And Felassan mean anything to you?’

Her eyebrows furrowed together, then she shook her head, ‘I don’t think I’ve heard of them, why do you ask?’

‘Briala asked if I’d been sent by either of them,’ I made an exaggerated frown, and shrugged my fingers, silently asking if anyone knew anymore. ‘Leliana, can we find out who they are? Might be nothing, or it could be a lead.’

She stood and gave me a little nod, no doubt leaving to send some ravens.


	42. Thirty Six

Felassan?’ Solas queried, knuckles tight on the back of Dorian’s chair.

I nodded, ‘not the sort of the name I’d forget,’ _slow arrow, ‘_ not the sort of sort of name a mother would give either. Might be a code….’

‘Will you stop lurking back there.’ Dorian snapped cutting me off, his shoulders raised against the figure behind him. He turned to Vivienne, ‘move your hat.’

She gave him a withering look, and then slowly picked up her headdress from the empty seat, placing it in her lap gently. Solas only stood back, talking a step back almost into the shadows.

Cassandra looked up abruptly, ‘Mihris, she was in the Hinterlands. That cave, with the veil artefact.’

‘Good memory,’ I commented, trying to remember, but I couldn’t place the woman. I nodded, ‘Let Leliana know’.

Cassandra gave me a small strained smile, ‘and after that, I believe a good book is calling me.’

I stared at her for a moment _, what an odd thing to say._ _Why was everyone looking at me?_ I realised with a sinking feeling that she was asking for permission to be dismissed. ‘Go, go, enjoy.’ I said quickly with a flush.

She gave me a stiff nod and left the room. On her way out, she held the door open for the Duke. He popped his head uncertainly around the doorway, ‘may I steal my dearest away?’ He asked the room, but his eyes were only for Vivienne. I briefly wondered if he’d been waiting outside.

Vivienne gave me a little glance and I nodded. Vivienne clapped her hands together. ‘Tonight, went as well as it could. Do not stay up too late, we have costume fittings, bright and early.’ She reminded. She picked her headdress up with a flick of her wrist and sauntered over to her lover. Her arms around his neck before they disappeared from view.

‘They’re sweet,’ Josephine said longingly, watching them as they disappeared. Then she seemed to hear herself and made a little show of gathering together her papers, her words becoming lost among the shuffle towards the door. I didn’t bother watching them file out of the room instead, I refilled my glass. Dorian handed his over and I filled his as well. The door closed with a final click, leaving us alone. _What a night._

‘So, was magister-me cute?’ I asked, handing him back his glass.

He snorted, ‘nothing on the real thing.’

‘Do think I’d make a good magister?’ I sat back with my eyes closed, waving my hand in what I assumed was a fancy gesture.

Dorian spluttered, ‘absolutely not’. He dabbed at his mouth with a handkerchief he fished out of a picket. ‘Fake you wouldn’t make a very fine magister.’ He waved his hand under his chin, ‘terrible bone structure.’

I put my hand to my chest, giving him a look of mock dismay. ‘And the real me?’ I asked curiously.

He tilted his head slightly, ‘ah,’ he took a large swallow of wine and didn’t look me in the eye, ‘maybe not.’

‘Least there is a replacement.’ I said quickly to cover the awkwardness in the room. ‘Two in fact, if you ever misplace me.’

‘There would be no replacing you.’

I jumped, I hadn’t realised that Solas was still in the room. He dropped gracefully into the chair that Vivienne had occupied, sitting with his legs up. I could feel Dorian’s eyes on me, but I didn’t look across at him. I couldn’t find the words.

‘Of course not,’ Dorian added raising a glass to me, ‘though I adore the image of you in the middle of the senate floor.’

I gave him a mock bow for his effort, forming words, but Solas replied before I could, ‘it would hardly be a safe place for her.’

Dorian inclined his head, conceding the point, ‘no, but I would be amusing.’

‘Do you consider your enjoyment paramount over the Inquisitor’s safety?’ Solas asked pointedly, sitting up to glare daggers at the Tevinter.

I sighed and closed my eyes. _Creators why wouldn’t these two get along._ In the three weeks since we’d left Skyhold, they’d come to cruel words at every available opportunity. It appeared that some part of Solas couldn’t forgive Dorian’s birthplace.

‘Oh yes, please do take my words out of context.’ Dorian drawled, and looked down at his nails, picking at them absent-mindedly. All the time avoiding Solas’ eyes. 

‘Slavery is…’

‘Gentlemen!’ I snapped, cutting Solas off. He gave me a disappointed look that I felt in my bones. But whatever point he thought to throw at Dorian’s feet wouldn’t actually help. ‘Stop. None of us were there, we can’t go back, we just have to move forward.’

‘You sound remarkably like Sera,’ Dorian noted dryly.

‘Thank you,’ I said proudly, sitting taller. ‘I’ll take it as a compliment.’

Solas sighed, ‘you shouldn’t.’

Then the two looked at each other, a quick smile passed between them. _Wonderful._ ‘I like Sera.’ I said stubbornly. ‘The Friends of Red Jenny are heroes...’ but my words were ignored.

‘I did try to explain that her strategy was somewhat lacking, the day before we left Skyhold. She put lizards in my bed roll.’ Solas commented to Dorian.

I took another drink, keeping my expression carefully neutral. _Yep that was the reason._  

‘Lizards?’ The moustachioed mage queried, after stifling a laugh or two.

‘Lizards.’ He confirmed.

Dorian drained his glass, rolled himself to his feet and popped his glass on the side, ‘well, that’s enough fun for one evening.’

I glanced across, ‘night.’

He paused by the door, ‘bright and early,’ he said with a wagging finger, mimicking Vivienne.

Once the door was closed, and the footsteps had disappeared, I turned to Solas, ‘why do you always have to fight?’

‘Thirty-six.’ He said without looking at me.

‘What?’

Solas looked at the closed door, his lip curled in distaste, ‘that’s how many people are _employed_ on by the Pavus estates.’ The way he said employed meant it was not a willing arrangement.

I felt my blood run cold, and I let out an unsteady breath. _That’s more than my clan._ I put my fingers to the lines inscribed under my cheeks. ‘I didn’t know.’

His eyes turned to my face, ‘you did not ask.’ Simple words that picked my skin with guilt. ‘I am curious, in spite of that you seem to trust him.’

 _Stupid and naïve, that must be what he thought of me._ I curled my legs up onto the chair, but I was unable to get comfortable, ‘you weren’t there.’ I said simply.

‘The future?’ He queried, blue eyes on me.

I nodded.

‘Will you show me?’

I shifted again, I could feel by heart pounding. He was asking to be in my dreams. My skin pricked raw under his scrutiny.

‘I am sorry that I asked.’ He stood to leave.

‘No,’ I said instinctively, _f_ _enedhis, why wouldn’t I have just let him leave?_ I nodded slowly. ‘Okay, I will try to show you.’


	43. Redcliffe Reverie

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A memory to try to prove the Dorian is trust-worthy. Sounds simple right?

I stood with my hands on the stone balcony, the bitter wind stung my face, tiny pinpricks of cold cleansing away any fear I had. I knew I would have to go back to Redcliffe at some point, but for now I was safe. I pulled my dagger out of my boot, twisting it in my hands, lost in thought.  

‘Hellana?’

The knife slipped, cutting into the pad of my thumb. The tiniest of cuts, but a tiny line of blood leaked out. I hissed and shook my hand.

Solas stepped up next to me and took my hand, surveying the wound. He pulled my hand up to his mouth and blew on the wound gently, I pulled back, but it was healed. ‘Dreams,’ he answered to my look of bewilderment.

I pulled at the pad of my thumb, but it was unmarked. I could still feel the slight sting where the cut had been. I glanced across, a thank you on my tongue, but it froze as cold as the ice on the wind. My blood ran cold. While I had been distracted, he’d picked up my knife. I wanted to snatch it from him and run, but I held my ground and simply raised an eyebrow with a silent hand out asking for it back.

He tested the knife, balancing it in his hand. Then he put it down firmly and slid it to me across the smooth stone balustrade.

‘Sylvan wood?’ He asked, almost with a sigh.

I nodded and looked into the mountains. ‘It’s unorthodox,’ I acknowledge, ‘when I was young,’

‘Take me.’ He interrupted, spreading his arm like a challenge.

I glanced across, unsure. _How was I supposed to do that?_ I looked out at the mountains, a solitary bird flew across the clear unclouded sky. _Nothing happened._

‘It’s a dream, you just have remember.’ He guided.  

I closed my eyes, the smell of woodsmoke and damp forest assaulted my scenes. The sun was warm on my skins in patches as it filtered down through the thick canopy. I opened my eyes, a smile spread over my face, _home_. The patchwork red sail snapped in the wind, and I could only stare at the _araval_ in amazement. I recognise that _araval,_ it had been lost in a fire many years ago.

In front of me, sat cross legged, was my mother. She looked a few years older than I was now. She was imposing in her own kind of way, a small petite woman who commanded kindness. When I thought of Mythal, this was the image I found more often than not. Curiously, I found myself in two places at once, I was both the young girl, barefaced, sat with a penchant frown on my face and the audience. Watching the events unfold as if my memories were portrayed by actors on a stage.

‘ _Da’len_ ,’ she said soothingly, and pressed her forehead to mine. The bow shaped _vallaslin_ pulling slightly as she gave me a small smile.

‘There is nothing to be done,’ Dirthanna snapped, the lines of Falon’Din on her face. She was a harsher version of her sister. Her temper was shorter, and she was slow to forgive slights. She was tapping her staff impatiently with unimpressed hand. _Wait, no. Not this day._

My mother dismissed her with the wave of her hand. And moved to wipe away the tears that were falling down my face. ‘Little hare, be brave.’

‘I don’t want ---- to be a hunter’  ‘----to be here’ I said in unison with the younger me.

‘I need ----to be like you’ ‘----to leave’ We said, my echoes a dull protestation of the fiery fury of my adolescent self.   

My mother took my hands, placing a heavy object in them, closing my fingers around it, ‘it isn’t your destiny.’ She said sadly. I knew it was the hunk of wood that should have become my Keepers Ring. But my talent had faded like the untended fire. I should have burned the wood, but I had carved into a hilt out of spite.

 _Skyhold._ The cold wind stung my face and I knew I was back. ‘I’d half forgotten why.’ I said numbly, staring down at the knife. I rubbed at my face making sure I had carried the tears of my younger self. I was happy with my life, or at least I had been before the temple had blown up.

I glanced at Solas, ‘that was a bad idea.’ I started to step back, wondering if I was able to wake myself up.

He put a steadying hand on my arm. ‘That was good, you moved twice. Try again.’

I gave him an unhappy look, _I didn’t want to drag up all my ancient memories for him to shift through._ Then rested my hands on the grey stone barrier, resolved to go directly to Redcliffe instead. I tucked my dagger back in my boot.

‘So we should just fix the whole world?’ Cassandra snapped. I looked up surprised, my hand remained on grey stone, but the railing had shifted and I was stood on the grey stone bridge outside Redcliffe.

‘If you didn’t want to change anything, you should have let the chantry take me.’ I spat back, my posture was fierce and defiant. I cringed a little at the harsh words, spoken too quick and I briefly considered if I could take them back. But then the castle caught my eye.

I turned, stepping away from the memory and the rest of the fractious conversation. The castle was taller and more imposing than I remembered. The towering monstrosity hung menacingly over the cliff, threatening to fall and take everyone with it. _Redcliffe. Redcliffe. Red._

The dank darkness of the dungeon was oppressive after the open skies. I let out a gasp of shock at the sudden transition and glanced to see Solas was still behind me. I paused for a moment, the time line was getting all over the place and I couldn’t quite work out where I was. Drips echoes on the uncaring stone tiles, and I glanced around the damp underground maze. Cassandra was in front of me, with a broken look and red fog covering her eyes. Dorian was looking worried, and I daren’t look to my right.

‘Boss?’ Bull’s voice asked, wrapped up with an unearthly echo.

I watched myself stepped forward, ‘Bull?’ The cracked whisper send a shudder of fear through my spine. Wide eyed, Bull’s scream of outrage tore from his chest as he tore himself physically from the wall. The splintered scarlet shards rolling to a sickened stop before my feet. The red lyrium pulsed across his body in cruel mocking, red fog over his one good eye.

Hands over my eyes, the image that I was dreading came into view, but I let out a grateful breath. White mist covered the cage were the future-Solas had been kept. Had I blocked the image in my mind so often, that I couldn’t remember? I felt a hand on my shoulder, I turned. Pale and perfect, unmolested by crimson crystals. ‘Let me see.’ He said softly, coaxingly.

I shook my head and felt myself trembling. _No._ I knew in my soul, that I would never forget that image. My mind was simply protecting myself from it.

‘Do you want to stop?’ A gentle question to let me know there would be no shame in giving up.

I considered, and the conjured companions froze in place as I debated with myself. ‘Yes.’ I whispered and gave a little wave of my hand. Behind me the mist dissipated, I didn’t have to look to know what my memory had revealed, I could read it on his inviolate face.  

‘It’s time to wake up.’ He said dimly, looking behind me horror stuck.


	44. Repercussions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lavellan wakes up from the dream - reality comes with consequences.

I was curled up on the sofa where I had been sat the evening before. Moonlight crept through the open curtains and my eyes slowly adjusted. My mouth was full of bitterness, and when I reached out for the half-drunk glass of wine my hand trembled so much, I didn’t dare to pick it up. A splash of wine was on my thumb, I stuck it in my mouth, copper. I pulled my hand back, there was a cut on my thumb. _That didn’t make any sense._ I closed my eyes, putting my face in my hands, but couldn’t feel my fingers. I tried to get to my feet, but I was unsteady I sat down immediately. My heart was beating in my chest so quickly, it was painful. I tried to slow my breathing, I felt light headed. I leaned back in the chair. _This had been a bad idea._

I looked up, and Solas was still asleep on the chair opposite. His face was tight and twitching from bad dreams. _My bad dreams._ I watched as he stirred from his sleep on the chair opposite. Blinking until he became accustomed to the light. He saw that I was awake. ‘Reading your report and seeing are two completely different experiences,’ he said simply.

‘Yes,’ I agreed breathlessly, ‘and we didn’t even get to the good bit!’ My bitter words bringing up a memory that I pushed away quickly.

‘Inquisitor?’ He asked, a tight worried look on his face.

I wanted to grimace at the title, but my chest was tight, and it was difficult to breathe. _Did the room always spin?_

 

My ear hurt, a numb radiating pain. I shifted my head and it felt a little better. I heard my name spoken in a faraway voice. I blinked but couldn’t place were I was. I closed my eyes again. Throbbing pain bubbled up on the side of my face. I blinked again, it was dark and there was a figure nearby. _Where was I?_ Something was digging in sharply to my leg. I pushed myself into a sitting position. I was awake, and the dream wasn’t real. _It wasn’t real._ I repeated it until I almost believed it. My throat burned, but I could find breath easily. ‘What happened?’ I asked croakily.

‘You forgot to breath.’ Solas chastised softly. He touched the back of his hand to me forehead, and I was too far gone to care that he was touching my _vallaslin._ ‘How do you feel?’

‘Dizzy,’ then considered, ‘tired.’

He watched me for a moment, then his strong arms squeezed me, and I clung back. ‘I apologise, I didn’t think that it would be so,’ he trailed off, lost for the words to describe the horror that he had just witnessed.

I clung to him, but my hand hovered about the place where the red lyrium had jutted out of his waist. I took a quick breath and touched the spot. _No scarlet shards to break my skin._  

He pulled back a little, a tired smile on his face, ‘checking that I’m real?’

I nodded, then squinted at him, ‘you are, aren’t you?’

‘I believe so,’ he chuckled.

I didn’t say anything for a moment, ‘at least we know what we’re trying to avoid.’ I muttered darkly. I ran my hands through my hair, stretched a little as I did. I was exhausted, a heavy weight rests on my shoulders and I wanted nothing more than to shrug it off. ‘I need to sleep. And not dream.’

He stood then, and his hands on mine and pulled me to my feet. Watching to see if I was steady on my feet and then he placed his arm around my back guided me towards the door, ‘I can’t help there.’ He said simply.

I nodded, not that I’d expected anything. ‘Next time ask Dorian, he coped better with the whole thing.’

His arm dropped for a moment and then he replaced it stiffly. ‘Hmm.’ A quick, non-committal sound.  

 _Why had I said that?_ I chastised myself, trusting Dorian was the reason for this whole stupid endeavour. I glanced over, but his expression was weary rather than annoyed. ‘Does anyone else know?’ I asked quietly.

He shook his head, ‘no, and I would prefer if no one found out.’

I tapped my finger to my lips twice, ‘I won’t tell.’ _Who would believe me?_ I thought wildly, _this is madness._ We walked in silence for down the first corridor towards my room, ‘you should try to get on with him.’ I commented.

He didn’t speak for a moment, his jaw worked as he considered his words. ‘Is it essential that I should trust him?’ He asked eventually.  

‘I guess not.’ I almost laughed, _I should have come to this conclusion and saved myself a trip to Redcliffe._ I shuddered at the thought.

Solas stopped, looking me over.

‘I’m fine.’ I whispered, a little unsettled at his concern.

‘You surprise me,’ he commented, ‘the lengths that you’d go to prove Dorian’s trustworthiness. You must have known I was asking too much.’

I didn’t say anything, _I had known it was asking too much. Why had I done it?_ I pushed away the frustration that they couldn’t see that they were supposed to be on the same side. Then the little voice echoed, _thirty six._ I couldn’t justify that and neither did I have to forgive it for me to work with the Tevinter.

‘Who were the women?’ Solas asked instead, moving around the topic that I was ignoring.

I glanced across, ‘my mother and my aunt.’ My words were unsteady, I didn’t want to speak of the past either.

So, he walked me without another word to my room, I opened the door without a word. The darkness of the unnecessary large space was not inviting. I realised I did not want to sleep. My eyes were heavy, but the thought of dreaming kept me alert. ‘Stay with me?’ I asked, turning back to face him.

Solas raised an eyebrow at me, his voice sour, ‘is that a command?’

I inhaled sharply, ‘silly man, I would not command that.’ I said as lightly as I could, although the idea hurt me deeply. _What a thing to say. What a thing to imply. Did he think I would command him to my bed?_ Though I had my answer, I turned away from him, wondering where I’d left matches. ‘I don’t want to be alone.’ I admitted, feeling the need to explain my words. Then, I waved my hand impatiently, ‘go, I’m sure I can find someone who’s awake.’ I began a catalogue, Leliana was my first choice she might still be writing letters; if not Cullen was a notorious light sleeper, I could probably find him for a game of chess; even Cassandra would be unimpressed but wouldn’t ask any questions…

‘I’ll stay.’


	45. The Dagger in the Darkness

‘I’ll stay,’ he said.

I could help the little smile that spread across my face, creators, I was blushed like a newly-tattooed. To cover my flush, I stopped by the table inside the door, I picked up the little packet of matches. While I was fumbling with them, Solas reached over twisted his hand and the candle burst into flame. I gave him a look, ‘showoff.’ I muttered under my breath.

‘Your room is larger than mine,’ he commented without malice.

‘Are you suggesting Madame de Fey is biased?’

‘Perhaps.’

I laughed, _of course she was._ I didn’t doubt for a moment everything Vivienne did was scrupulously planned out.  

I watched him without meaning to, as he traced the edges of the room, candles flickering to life. I sat down heavily on a chair underneath a set of tall arched windows. Then I felt an odd scene of panic come over me, and I reached into my boot. My knife was still there, I pulled it out, the metal glinted in the moonlight.

‘Your knife.’ His statement that was more of a question.

I looked up guilty, ‘thought I might have lost it.’ I held up my thumb to the moonlight, ‘odd.’ I commented.

He glanced over to see the cut on my thumb, a flicker of concern passed before he smoothed the emotion off his face, ‘an unusual dagger that creates a cut from the Fade. Where did you come by it?’

I shrugged, slipping it back in my boot where it was safe. ‘I made.’

‘You made it?’ He repeated back, his voice almost uncertain.

‘I doubt it’s special.’ I shrugged off the question, _I didn’t want to talk about the past._ Bringing up past misfortunes and failures what not exactly what I’d been planning.

'It appears to be.’ He reasoned.

‘It’s a long story.’ I shrugged off the question.

‘We have time.’

 _Actually, a good point, ugg._ ‘I was meant to be a Keeper, for a time anyway.’ I paused, in case he didn’t know what I was talking about, but no questions came so I carried on. I raised my hand out, around three foot off the ground, ‘I would have been about that high, one night,’ I my hand curled in the air, _used magic,_ ‘I accidentally set fire to an _araval_. Dirthanna was overjoyed,’ I looked up, ‘my aunt, the woman standing with the staff, our Keeper at the time,’ I added to explain.  _I still couldn’t believe I hadn’t gotten in trouble._ My clan had been so happy, grateful that the future Keeper wouldn’t be a traded mage from another clan. I looked away from him, looking out into the garden, ‘So they trained me, and no one bothered to test me for magic. So eventually, I am this high’ I raised my hand to the top of my head, I smiled at my own joke. ‘Dirthanna and I had hunted sylvan, everything is ready. I’m about to be tattooed, and some bright spark thinks I should probably proof I can do magic.’

He gave me a raised eyebrow.

‘Exactly, I don’t have magic.’ I looked down at my left hand, ‘I didn’t anyway. I failed. Utterly failed. Dirthanna was furious,’ I rubbed my eyes. ‘Told me she’d give me to Sylaise, told me I’d be a hearth-mistress.’ I shuddered at the thought, then looked over and began backtracking, ‘a noble path, I’m sure. Just not for me.’

He nodded, seemingly unconcerned with my blasphemy.

I licked my lips, ‘Mother defended me, wanted to give me to Andruil instead,’ I sighed. ‘I didn’t really have a choice. But,’ I shrugged, ‘mother won. Dirthanna wanted me to burn the wood, I was young and angry, I made it into a knife in secret. It’s funny really,’

‘Yes?’

‘Inquisitor is kind of like a Keeper, almost lucky I kept it. I’m rambling, none of this would explain why the knife is special. I don’t think it is, just sentimental.’

‘And the blade?’ He queried.

I shrugged, ‘traded some _shem_ for it. I don’t know what it is.’

‘May I see it?’

I took a breath, _no._ Then I reconsidered, I had just said it wasn't magic knife, there was no reason to be so protective. I pulled it out of my boot, gave him a look, _I’m trust you._ And handed it over.

Slim fingers turned it over in the moonlight and he handed it back, ‘silverite.’

I took it from him.

‘Most Keepers have a ring, not a dagger. Is it not it a little unfair?’ He ask quietly, a smirk playing on his features.

I looked down at the knife, shaking my head. _The Dread Wolf’s comes for tyrants, the gods ran from_ _Arlathan, terrified they would lose their immortality, they left their people,_ _so he tricked them,_ my mother had whispered under the deck of an _aravel_ , words so true they had to be hidden from the other gods _._ And now I was a Keeper of sorts, even the greatest Keepers could become corrupt, ‘It’s a reminder not to fuck up.’  

* * *

When I woke, I was pressed up against another person. For a split second I thought I might be home, back crammed in the back of an _aravel_. But I realised quickly that I was cuddled up against a sleeping Solas. I quite forgot to be alarmed at this turn of events.

 We were both on our sides, his back against me. My arm had tucked under his, clenched fist against his sternum, locking him close to me. Legs entwined. I didn’t remember falling asleep, or even getting to the bed. But there we were. I glanced down quickly, both fully dressed on top of the covers. I drew back closely, desperate not to wake him. I didn’t want that conversation, _at least not yet_. He stirred a little and made a small sad grumble, I froze. He shuffled in his sleep, trapping my arm firmly. I could have pulled away if I really wished it, but decided it wasn’t necessary. I felt back into sleep.

I was half awake when I felt him stir, creeping away from me. The sudden cold made my groggily reach out for a pillow, which was a pitiful replacement.

‘Sleep,’ he said, ‘I will tell them to start without you.’ The words floated in the air, but I didn’t fully comprehend as I drifted back out of consciousness.

 

When I woke again, the midmorning sun was streaming through the twin windows. I blinked groggily, after a night of disturbed sleep I hadn’t felt rejuvenated. Though, I did allow myself a smile at the night’s events. It felt like progress, but I wasn’t sure which direction I’d gone in. I shook my head, to shake the brooding thoughts away. _Bright and early._ I sat up, momentary wonder flicked across my mind as to where the thick blanket had come from.


	46. No Rest for the Wicked

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lavellan and the gang are making the final preparations for the Winter Ball, which is only a day away. Nothing can go wrong, right?

I looked at myself in the great copper mirror. Bright and bold red, _red to remind me of our purpose,_ I thought with a shiver _._ Embroidered with yellow details. Made of thick satin and soft to the touch, heavier than I’d expected with a tight boning running up the sides. On top, a belt of navy-blue silk that slipped round my waist and over my shoulder. I certainly didn’t look like me anymore.

‘What do you think?’ Josephine asked, her eyes on all of the details. Holding out her customary clipboard, checking off all the details.

‘A uniform to unite us in purpose,’ Vivienne praised.

‘I hate it.’ Dorian muttered, pulling at a sleeve with a look of disgust on his face.

I stretched a little seeing if I could move in the jacket, it felt more like armour than an outfit. I took the yellow gloves that were offered to me. There would be no fading into the background wearing these. A small woman appeared behind me, pinning the back of my jacket a little tighter. A pin pricked me, and I pulled away. The lady apologised profusely but continue to manhandle me until the alterations were complete. She backed off and I tried to move again, the jacket was now too restrictive, and one of the bones dug into my shoulder blade. ‘Does it need to be so tight?’ I queried.

Josephine came behind me, took my hand and guided me to the small of my back, under the flap of fabric I was able to pull the bones out. Twin daggers, I gave her a rueful smile. ‘I see.’

‘I am sure that you will not need them,’ Josephine began, ‘but we decided that it was necessary. There are also two hidden sheathes in the boots. And,’ she walked over to a little table and picked something up. She handed it to me, a little smile playing on her lips. A hip flask.

Vivienne tutted, ‘My dears, I am sure the Winter Palace will not run out of wine.’

‘Are there more of those?’ Dorian asked, ignoring Vivienne.

There was a little knock at the door, a maid approached Vivienne and gave her a light dip. Almost a curtsy, but not quite. ‘There is a man at the door for you, Madame.’

Vivienne gave a graceful nod and followed her out of the room.

* * *

Leliana appeared about twenty minutes later, her hood was pushed back, and her face was paler than usual. ‘You’d better come quickly, Cullen’s been attacked.’

‘What?’ I gasped as Josephine dropped her quill, it clattered to the floor and droplets of ink splattered onto the mirror.

‘Alive?’ Dorian asked darkly.

Leliana looked at him and nodded tightly. She then ushered us down a corridor, but pulled Josephine aside, pushing a letter into her hands. I lingered a moment to catch the exchange of words. ‘Celene’s hand is behind this.’ She hissed.

Josephine swore under her breath, ‘I had hoped,’ She trailed off.

‘What did you expect?’ Leliana chastised. And then noticed me waiting. She began to explain, but I cut her off and I understood. The attack on Cullen was just the next round of the Game, she wanted me to know that she could hurt my companions, the Empress of Orlais wanted me to know that Halamshiral was her territory. I was grateful then at Josephine’s forethought, the daggers in my dress, _I would not go before her unarmed_.

* * *

Despite the rush and panic, Cullen was looking surprisingly cheerful. He was sat up in a chair, with Vivienne was worrying over him, flashes of green and gold shot from her healing hands knitting his flesh back together. Within a few minutes the only signs of left were a split lip and a bandage wrapped around his waist.

Cassandra stood back, fury painted across her features. She looked up when she saw us approached, ‘I should have gone with him.’

Josephine put her hand carefully on Cassandra’s arm, ‘you couldn’t have known.’ She reassured, which Cassandra returned with a dark look and she left, sword clinking lightly against her leg as she walked away.  

‘What happened?’ I asked.

‘Bastard stabbed me, shouted that I was templar scum and stabbed me.’ He said with an odd expression. ‘Knew where to hit, slipped the knife under my chestplate. City guard pulled him off me.’

‘Good, at least the assailant has been arrested, we can question...’ Josephine began.  

‘No,’ Cullen shook his head. ‘Guard killed him.’

Josephine huffed, ‘so we have no leads.’

Leliana glanced at her but didn’t speak. I knew exactly who she thought was behind it.

I stared past Cullen, so either I save the woman who’s trying to kill us and killed thousands of my people, or the world is overrun with a demon army. Then I realised with a sting of dread and guilt, it wasn’t my choice. I’d given the choice to Briala. _Fenedhis._ I had no idea which way she would go. I rubbed my eyes, in a desperate attempt to see clearly.

‘No one leaves until tomorrow evening,’ Leliana stated firmly, ‘we cannot risk this happening again.’

I nodded in agreement, although Vivienne gave me a disappointed glance.

‘Oh,’ Cullen said suddenly, pointing over at his discarded red jacket. Vivienne passed it over wordlessly. Cullen took out a rough sheet of paper, which had been folded many times. He handed it to me. ‘Sticking out of the dead man’s pocket.’

I shuddered at his words, then l looked it over, and then looked up at him, ‘a letter from my clan?’ It had already been torn open, it was written in Deshanna’s hand, in Trade using Elvish letters. There were notes on the text in another hand with a transliteration.

 

_Hellana,_

_I wish I could come to you at Skyhold, it would be a wonder to see. I must remain for the time being._

_Bandits attack, the raiders are well armed and heavily armoured. They come in numbers that we cannot match. We’ve moved to a small unclaimed valley not far from Wycome. If you can help, please do. You carry clan Lavellan with you. _

_Istimaethoriel Lavellan._

 

I traced her name, Istimaethoriel, Deshanna’s formal name. _Why would she use that for me, what did it mean?_ I read it over and read it over again. _It didn’t make any sense_. I checked back again for accent marks, _skyhold-come-clan-lavellan_. I closed my eyes, I imagined them on a boat halfway across the Waking Sea. A little joy rose in my heart, maybe they were already there, I almost laughed at the idea of our _araval_ hauled up the mountain, and the halla grazing in Skyhold’s courtyard. Then like being thrown into icy water, I wrapped my arms around myself. I realised my letter had been intercepted, it must have been written a while back for the transliteration to have been done. ‘Someone stole my letter.’ Was all I was able to say.

Josephine finished reading the note and handed it to Leliana, ‘The Duke of Wycome is an Inquisition ally. Let me write to him, he can tell us more about these bandits and perhaps he could help the Dalish.’

I nodded, ‘do it.’ Josephine nodded and left the room.

Leliana handed me the note back, a murderous look in her eyes, ‘we have a spy at Skyhold.’  


	47. Far from Home

I had managed to convince Leliana not to jump on a horse and head to Skyhold, whatever leak could wait a day and then we’d return together. As much as I wanted to get to the bottom of it, she had been brought up Orlesian, I would need her at the Winter Ball. Cullen had said he could go, at which point Vivienne had given him a playful smack and told him even getting stabbed wouldn’t get him out of it. I’d left shortly after that, as there was nothing more I could do.

I hadn’t seen Solas since the morning and I desperately hoped that he’d not left. I ran my hands through my hair as I retreated to my room. Maybe I could get in an hour of so nap before I was needed again. I should probably practise with the dress-daggers, I thought at I opened the carved wooden bedroom door. I blinked in surprise as I found Solas sat on the chair under the arched window reading.

He looked up and folded the book around his finger to mark his page. ‘The light is better in here.’ He said by way of explanation.

I just nodded and sat crossed-legged on the side of the bed. I toyed with the woven bracelet on my wrist. ‘Cullen got stabbed.’ I said without preamble. ‘Vivienne healed him, he found one of my mother’s letters here.’

Solas lay the book out, so the pages were face down to keep his page and he moved over to me. ‘Are you feeling alright?’

I laughed, a harsh, bitter sound. ‘No, of course not.’ Then I gave him a little smile, to tell him not to worry. ‘I will be fine.’ I rubbed my eye with the back of my hand, the mark flared, and I bit the inside of my cheek to ignore the pain that rippled up through my arm. ‘ _Fenedhis_ ,’ I muttered under my breath.

He took my hand gently rubbing the emerald anchor, dissipating the pain till it was an easily contained ache.

‘What are you reading?’ I asked to distract myself.

He shifted a little, sitting back straighter, ‘I was trying to find another instance of someone losing magic, besides the tranquil of course,’ he looked a little guilty.

I clapped my hand over my mouth, giggles escaping without my consent. ‘Silly man, you won’t find it in a _shem_ book.’ His face turned to me, sad eyes. ‘The clans have just been like this for as long as anyone can remember.’

‘This is common among the Dalish?’ He queried, giving me a look that I hadn’t seen before.

I shrugged, ‘hardly common, but not unusual.’

Solas stood and picked the book up. Smoothing it out so the spine would not be damaged. ‘I did not know.’ He stood, hands clasped behind his back looking out of the window.

‘It’s fine.’ I repeated and lay back on the bed. I close my eyes and when I open them again, he’s gone.

 

I must have slept as the sun is lower in the sky. I rub my eyes and pull myself from the bed, grateful that I was not plagued with dreams. As I step out of my room, I walk into Cassandra. ‘I’m sorry,’ I whisper under my breath.

She gives me a look and a nod and begins to move away.

‘Cassandra?’ I say before my courage fails me.

The warrior turns back to me. Eying me with barely concealed distain, ‘inquisitor.’

‘Would you help me train, with the new daggers? I want to make sure I’m not completely useless.’ I admit.

A slow smile spreads across her face, ‘of course.’

 

She leads me to a small fenced off terrace on the roof. Up here we are hidden from view and there are not higher ledges for an opportunistic archer to send arrows our directions. ‘I have trained with Cullen here.’ Cassandra gives me by way of explanation. ‘Have you fought with daggers before?’

I nodded, ‘years ago. I prefer my bow.’ I weight the twin daggers in my hand. They are thin, and I don’t know how much stress they can hold. Although they are lighter than my sylvan-handled knife, so I hope I can make up any lack of skill with speed. I take a dagger in each hand, decided to point them back rather than forward.

Cassandra arms herself with a sword and shield, it is not her usual sword but a blunted one. It will still sting if she hits me but won’t chop a limb off. ‘Ready?’ She asked.

I don’t respond, instead I step forward, circling around her.

She gives me a grunt of disapproval, but the fight had begun. She knocked her sword against her shield challengingly. She swings forward, and I try to catch her sword with the blades, but they are the wrong way and she smacks me square above the knee with the flat of her sword. I hiss out a breath and take a step back. I twist the daggers round in my hand, moving them in unison to block her next two attacks.

‘Use them independently,’ Cassandra advices with a huff and I dart under her sword arm, dagger poised above her belly. ‘Good.’ She congratulates, but before I can celebrate her shield is on my chest, pushing me back. I stagger back a few steps, regain my balance and block her next blow.

I enjoy the spar, feeling like I can let loose some of my frustration on Cassandra. She definitely doesn’t hold back in return. My movements are becoming second nature again, and I have to think less about exactly where to be. My body just knows what to do and where to go.

We continue in this manner until the sun begins to dip. Cassandra pulls back, wipes her forehead with the back of her sleeve. She shrugs off her shield and drops her sword to the ground, ‘enough.’

I nod, sheathing my daggers.

‘You’re good, though you need to raise your left arm more. It’s too easy to hit your shoulder.’

I give her a breathless smile, taking the advice.

She leans on the railing, overlooking the city, and glanced over to me, ‘it occurs to me that I don’t actually know much about you.’

I smile, and lean along side her, ‘what do you want to know?’

 ‘I’m not sure,’ she pauses, ‘your clan, would you go back?’

I sighed, ‘being here, seems to have put them in danger.’

She nodded but seemed uncertain. ‘When this is over,’ she slumped a little, ‘will you go back?’

My throat tightens, _if there is a clan to go back to, please Mythal protect them._ ‘I think I will.’

She pushes back from the railing and places a hand lightly on my shoulder. ‘It will not be the same when you do.’ Cassandra doesn’t wait for an answer, she picks up her discarded gear and leaves me to pounder her words. I also consider Cassandra, returning home to find a world changed, but I cannot imagine Cassandra as a child or even younger. What hurts does she conceal under the armoured white eye?


	48. Grand Duke Gaspard

It was the night before the Ball, and I couldn’t sleep. I lay in the borrowed bed tossing and turning, unable to get comfortable. My mind was swimming with nerves, the great weight of powerless anticipation hung over me. The night was clear, with a sliver of a waxing moon in the sky. I pulled on a robe de chambre over my sleep shift, it was pointless waiting for sleep that wouldn’t come. I pace the room, wondering if I was going to leave a dent where my steps wear away the floor. So much is riding on the events of the next day, and I wonder why the gods gave this task to me.

* * *

‘No,’ I said firmly as Josephine offered me powder for my face. I will not be covering up my _vallaslin._ She shook her head to bury her annoyance, accepting my decision for what it is and turns to the mirror. With a practised hand she applies a thin line of gold paint to her eyelids, framing them. ‘Actually,’ I said and she pauses looking at me via the reflection. ‘May I?’ I ask, taking the little brush from her.

I steady myself in front of the mirror, my hand shook, I left a streak in the wrong place and rub at it angrily with the back of my hand. Josephine understood what I am trying to do and takes the brush back off me. She finished painting my face for me. I looked into the mirror, my _vallaslin_ had become gold and shining. The light catches on the shimmer with each turn my head, giving the lines the illusion of being made of precious metal. Josephine gave me an approving smile. I hugged her gently, a silent thank you.

* * *

Dorian pulled me aside, ‘be careful tonight.’ His thumb is under his chin and he studies me. ‘The court is a viper nest, going in will get you bitten. The trick is to not let them see fear, not let them know if when it stings.’

I gave him a small smile, ‘if must be bad if you’re worried.’

His hand dropped, ‘I’ve been to too many soirees in Tevinter, it is as brutal as stepping into the gladiatorial arena. Put on a good show and the crowd will be chanting your name.’

I blinked at him, ‘a good show?’

‘It’s why they call it the Game.’ He turned to leave, then returned with a smirk. ‘I’ll give you five gold if you can get the awful hat off Solas. He needs to be saved from himself,’ he left, muttering darkly about fashion disasters.

* * *

I smoothed down the front of my jacket, patting the wrinkles out and checking that the silky navy belt is in place. I have six separate daggers secreted on me and two hip flasks. Josephine took me by the arm, we are flanked by inquisition agents in their green and brown, the image of a shard of red lyrium in the midst of a forest makes me faulter for a moment. _Mother Mythal let my clan be alright,_ I begged to the empty sky.

Josephine tugged at my arm lightly, _we are on show,_ she silently reminds me. We approached the Winter Palace, which is a towering symmetrical monstrosity of blue and white. Gilt and gold cover ever corner and I felt a stone settle in my stomach. The shameful spires tower over us, mocking me, daring me to run from the _shem_ stronghold. I pray the whole thing will sink into the ground, the foundations rotted by all the spilled elvish blood.  

‘Needs more arches.’ One of the agents to my right whispered. Which elicits a sharp look from Josephine.

We entered the Winter Palace, I had Josephine on my arm, steading me and whispering names and titles. I tried my best to not look around, not wanting to look like exactly what I was, a girl from the forest who had never stepped foot in a palace before. The closest I had come was to Vivienne’s party, but it was a dull affair in comparison – not that I’d ever confess that to Vivienne. I had thought our choice of outfit to be bold and garish, but in comparison to the theatre loving Orlesians, we were almost underdressed. A sea of colour and costume, glittering jewels sparkled in flickering candle light. I felt sick to my skin looking at the treasures, the imposing majesty. This was Orlais’ mask, take it off and what would I find.

‘Grand duke Gaspard,’ Josephine murmured to me, bringing me out of my brooding.

A tall man, he was almost subtle dressed in bronze and blue, a half mask across his face. Rough shaved stubble covered his exposed chin. I almost laughed, in this battleground he was the only one wise enough to be wearing armour. ‘It is my great pleasure to meet you, Inquisitor Lavellan. My Lady, are you prepared to shock the court by walking into the Grand Ball with a hateful usurper?’ He queried, a slight smile playing on his lips. ‘They will be telling stories of this into the next age.’ He spread his arms grandly.

I gave him a little nod and followed him towards a fountain in the middle of the courtyard, ‘I daresay, I’m not here just for the party. There is an assassin loose, Grand Duke, finding him is my priority.’

Gaspard took a little step back, his hand unconsciously touching his hip to an imagined sword hilt. ‘That is a grave accusation, my friend, of all of the nights…’ He trailed off, sighing. ‘I suspect you will find this would be assassin within the _elven delegation.’_ He spat the words like they left a bad taste in his mouth.

Josephine next to me, pinched the inside of my arm, reminding me to keep my temper. ‘Elven delegation?’ I questioned softly.

‘My people have found their ‘ambassadors’ all over the place, sabotage seems the least of their crimes.’ His lips curled into a snarl.

‘Tell me there is more to your suspicious than, ‘the elves are acting funny’?’ Josephine said briskly, and I wanted to hug her.

Gaspard gave her a look over, ‘Lady Montilyet, the court has suffered without your charming presence. Maybe you remember Briala?’

Josephine shook her head, ‘Briala?’ she queried, perfectly portraying confusion.  

Gaspard turned back to me, ‘she used to be Celene’s maid, until my cousin arrested her for crimes against the empire to cover up a little indiscretion. And now she’s parading around as ‘Ambassador.’ If anyone in this palace, wishes Celene harm, it would be her.’

I turned to Josephine, ‘perhaps I should meet this, ‘ambassador.’ I said the word like I was tasting it for the first time.

‘Be as discreet as possible. I detest the Game, but if we do not play, our enemies will have us looking like villains.’

I nodded and gave him a small smile, thinking of the disastrous play, ‘I know.’    

He seemed to know what I was speaking of, but held his arm out to me, ‘it appears we are keeping the court waiting.’

Josephine took a step back and I took his arm.

‘Shall we?’


	49. Empress Celene

‘Shall we?’ Grand Duke Gaspard asked as I took his arm, he lead me through the courtyard. I hear the twitters around me, people stopped speaking and turned to watch. _Every word, every gesture is measures and evaluated for weakness._ Josephine had told me. _It is no simple matter of etiquette and protocol, it is a game of wicked grace played to the death. Never reveal your cards._

‘Will you tell more about the Ambassador?’ I asked conversationally.

‘It is a disgrace,’ Gaspard said with a smile, so that onlookers would only see a pleasant conversation. ‘She is a citizen of Orlais and yet is dressed like a foreign dignitary.’ We approached a grand curved staircase and we made our way up leisurely, I felt as though I was walking to the gallows. ‘She has,’ He paused, finding his words, ‘a weapon. Something that would alter the outcome not only of this war, but every war. Celene wants to keep her sweet, but she cannot be negotiated with.’

‘A weapon?’ I queried.

‘Of sorts.’ He replied annoyingly cryptic. ‘Bring her to my side and you will have the support of the rightful emperor of Orlais.’

‘I see,’ I said softly, understanding his arrangement.

He gave me a winning smile, although I wasn’t sure I deserved it. I stood for a moment, to look at the gilded double doors. _That room holds the fate of Thedas._ I though and smiled. ‘Do you like the palace, inquisitor?’ Gaspard asked when I looked back to him.

‘It is,’ I considered my next word carefully, ‘impressive.’ I went for.

He flushed with pleasure and began to tell me the detailed and sordid history of the building and the events that had taken place within the walls. He guided me through the double doors and along a corridor, and yet up more stairs. I felt his passion radiating from his words, but too many intrusive thoughts fought for superiority in my mind that I didn’t hear his history lecture.

Gaspard brought me to sort of railing, overlooking a sunken ballroom floor. A gentleman approached who gave me an almost mocking bow. Gaspard removed his arm from my hold and disappeared from my view, descending into the pit.

I looked down at the sapphire polished floor below, the sunken pit which I would cross. I was to be seen and judged by the mocking unmoving masked faces. I took the stairs, _mother Mythal be with me, great lady who rose from the sea to save the sun, be with me._ I keep my arms at my sides, and I could feel my hands itch to reach up and touch my _vallaslin._ My feet touched the blue and I half expected to be swallowed by it. Even the walls of the pit were draped with great swaths of dark blue cloth, like waves of a great ocean, threatening to drag me under if I wasn’t careful. I heard voices around me but blocked them out. I walked slowly, carefully, one foot in front of the other. _Do not faulter, do not let them smell fear._ I could only hear the drumming in my ears, the tightness of my chest. _How many years had I been walking?_ I saw the Empress then, or at least the woman I assumed was the Empress. Stood with her head raised, dressed almost modestly in matching sapphire blue, behind her glittered a golden sun. _What irony, Mythal, that I must emerge from this sea to meet this sun-queen?_  I gave her a practised bow, she inclined her head just.

Finally, I was the other stairs, I noticed Leliana had move to flank my left and Josephine on my right, I didn’t look back, I just hoped the others were behind me.

‘Lady Inquisitor,’ the Empress said, her voice softer than I had been expecting. ‘We welcome you to the Winter Palace.’ She turned slightly with her hand out, and a lady in gold stepped forward. ‘Allow us to present our cousin, The Grand Duchess of Lydes, without whom this gather would never have been possible.’

The Grand Duchess bowed deeply at the compliment, but turned to me, ‘What an unexpected pleasure, I was not aware the inquisition would be a part of our festivities.’ She titled her head, I suspected without the mask she would have given me a disapproving look.

The Empress spoke again, her hand moving softly as she spoke almost like a metronome, keeping her words in time. ‘Your arrival at court is like a cool wind on a summer’s day.’ Then she paused allowing me to speak.

‘Let us hope,’ I give up a silent prayer of thanks that my voice did not faulter, ‘that the soft breeze does not _herald_ a tempest.’  

‘Even the wisest mistake fair winds for a foul, we are at the mercy of the skies.’ Her words surprise me, almost pious. I realise with a jolt that she will have briefed on me, as much as I have on her. I wonder what she thinks she knows of me. ‘Inquisitor, how do you find Halamshiral?’

The word rips through me like she’s stabbed me, I fight to keep my emotions from my face. ‘My words will not be able to do it justice,’ I say, hoping that it will suffice.

She gives me a smile from under her half-mask. ‘Your modesty does you credit and speaks well for the Inquisition. Please, feel free to enjoy the pleasures of the ballroom,’ she gives another graceful wave of her hand. ‘We look forward to watching you dance.’

I give her another practised bow, to hide my face for a moment. I understand now why the Orlesians wear masks, I wish I could spit at the lot of the them. The Empress steps back, and I know I am dismissed. Leliana steps forward to accompany me up the stairs and out of the pit. ‘A word when you have a moment,’ she whispers so quiet I almost do not catch it.  

As I leave the pit, I sneak another glance at the Empress. Celene is almost milky pale, I doubt the sun-queen spends much time in the sun. She is tall, refined and delicate, she is the beautiful kind of monster.  


	50. Ambassador Briala

Leliana keeps her arm around mine as we walk back on long the path above the pit, I glance down watching the next victims make their way across the dancefloor. A look behind me reveals that Cullen has already been waylaid by a small following of masked women, red splotches are climbing up his neck. I also noted that Dorian and Solas are absent, _where did those two go?_

‘What did Gaspard say?’ Leliana muttered to me, once were away from prying eyes and listening ears.

I gave her an unimpressed look, ‘blamed Briala for the whole thing.’

She nodded, but her jaw was tight, ‘the best place to strike Celene would be from her side.’ She takes a moment and her face becomes as mask again, smooth and emotionless. She is a bard again, ready to sing her song. ‘Celene’s new, ‘occult advisor,’ is a woman who I’ve had dealings with in the past. She is ruthless and capable of anything,’ she gave me a small sigh, ‘she appears to have charmed the court and Celene as if by magic. Impressive in the little time she has had since replacing Vivienne.’

‘She replaced Vivienne?’ I spluttered, wondering what kind of woman would dare take up Vivienne’s discarded shoes.

Leliana nodded and glanced around again. ‘Last time I was at Court, she was Celene’s pet and nothing more. No one cared for her, and now she has secured powerful friends.’

‘A suspect?’ I asked.

Leliana gave me a wink, _of course._ ‘You did well in there,’ she added indicating back with her head towards the ballroom. She put a gentle hand on my shoulder, and she returned to the Ballroom.

 

I stood for a few moments considering my next move, I should go back into the Ballroom and to find Vivienne and find out as much about this mysterious occult advisor who had unnerved Leliana so much. Though, I cannot make my feet take me back into the room with the Empress. I make my decision when I see Dorian at the bottom of the staircase. He looks up at the moment I see him and he gives me a broad smile.

‘Ah, Hellana, how was the Empress?’ He asked when I had made my way down the stairs.

‘Where did you go?’ I hissed, while holding a smile on my face. For the masked onlookers.

He laughed, ‘where else?’ Showing me a mostly full wine glass.

I gave him my first genuine smile of the evening, ‘ _hipflask_.’ The word is formed like a prayer, my hand moves instinctively.

I am stopped as Dorian’s arm is linked through mine, and he moved me through gilded doors into a new room, as splendid as the one before. ‘Seems a little rude, there’s an _open bar_.’ He sounded practically giddy, I didn’t understand the term, but allowed him to drag me forward anyway.

I caught a glimpse of Solas and paused, pulling away from Dorian for a heartbeat. I was about to go over but noticed that he was speaking with an elven maid. I know I’ve been spending too much time around Vivienne and Josephine as I immediately think _her dress is wrong._ Odder still, he pulled a folded note from his pocket. She took it with a cutesy and backed away as though he’s some sort of lord. Dorian gives me a huff of impatience and tugged me onwards. Though she walked past me I give her another glance, I know _her mask is wrong_ , the goldwork is poor and the lace embellishment had been stuck on with paste.

Within a few hundred heartbeats a glass of red wine is passed into my hands, and I forget the oddness. I take a sip and I feel something resembling normal. _Maybe I am drinking too much_ , I pushed the thought away angrily, I will consider my drinking when the weight of Thedas is not on my shoulders.

‘This reminds me of home,’ Dorian says suddenly, breaking me away from my thoughts, ‘all this dancing, politics and murder. I am almost homesick.’

‘Murder?’ I query.

He takes a breath and spreads his arms grandly, sloshing wine on the floor. ‘The night is still young.’

‘I knew I would find you here.’ Vivienne’s words cut through the air. ‘Do try to not to ruin the rug.’ She added with a flick of annoyance at Dorian.

‘It appears that I been replaced. By an apostate, no less.’ Her tone is almost jovial, but I worried for her wine glass, it might snap in her hands.

‘Official mage to the Orlesian Imperial Court? That sounds terribly dull.’ Dorian said, by way of placating her.

‘It is an esteemed position, darling.’ She straightened her neck, her eyes screaming murder. ‘At least it was.’ Vivienne turned to me, watching me closely, ‘My dear, Ambassador Briala has asked if she may make your acquaintance.’ Then her eyes drifted over my posture, ‘stand up straight, don’t sulk like a child. You did well, you will do well.’ Her glance flicked to Dorian. He gave her a warning glare, challenging her to make a comment.

‘You’ll do.’

‘Always a pleasure Madame.’ He said with a twisted smirk. He raised a glass to us as we left.

 

We walked past a small group speaking in hushed voices together, they stopped speaking the moment that they saw me. But continued as we passed, not even bothering to keep their voices unheard, ‘that’s her.’

‘Did you see the play? The Seven Magisters?’

‘Shocking,’ another gasped.

‘I cannot believe Celene allowed it.’

‘Please, _Company de Chalons_ performed it.’

Vivienne looked to me, her mouth is closed tightly in worry. ‘Hmm, I will let Leliana know.’

‘What does it mean?’ I asked.

She only shook her head in response.

 

From the raised walkway overlook the Pit, I found Cassandra, who pointed me through an open doorway to find Ambassador Briala waiting on a balcony. I took a breath of the night air, I let the moonlight dance on my skin, and felt the presence of the open sky recharging me.

‘Ambassador Briala?’ I asked a few paces back as she had yet to look up.

She tapped a folded note a couple of times on the railing and turned to me, her eyes lighting up behind her half mask. ‘Ah, ‘Ellana, I was hoping to catch you.’

I nodded my head to her, ‘enjoying the evening?’

‘Not as much as I was expecting, something is happening in the servant’s quarters and I have yet to hear word. I fear the worst, but my absence would be noted. Would you consider investigating?’

‘Of course.’ I look at the note in her hands, ‘any news?’

She tucked the note out of side, ‘a message that doesn’t make sense. News from an old friend, but the code is wrong.’ She shakes her head and gives me a smile, ‘nothing for you to worry about.’

‘Oh, talking of worry. Gaspard is worried you have some kind of weapon that will bring down Orlais.’ I tried to strike a conversational tone, but she gives me a glance that makes me question whether it was simply hyperbole.

She gives me a searching look. ‘What have you heard?’

‘He didn’t say anymore,’ I reply honestly, ‘is it the spy network?’

She laughs, a sweet sound, ‘a network of sorts.’

I nodded, let her keep her weapon. The elves needed all the power they could get. I bit the top of my lip. ‘Have you got an answer for me?’ _Do you want me to allow the assassination of Empress Celene?_

‘Let the bitch die.’


	51. Grand Duchess Florianne

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Squeal! 1000 hits! What? That's amazing, thank you so much for the support!  
> I hope you're all enjoying reading this as much as I am writing it! <3

I wiped the blood off my face with the back of my hand. I glanced down and understood why the jackets were red. ‘Go check out the servant’s quarters, she said, go investigate.’ I muttered under my breath, giving the illusion that I was annoyed. In reality I was almost grateful that we’d been attacked by Venatori, at least no one was making me dance. The servant’s quarters had been a twisting maze of rooms and corridors and I had quickly lost all sense of direction. I was grateful for the momentary respite, in the open air. It was quiet, and we had regrouped on a balcony and I pulled a stolen locket out of my pocket. I recognised the workmanship as elvish, although not Dalish. I turned it over in my hands, why would Celene have stored this in her vault? _And why had I taken it?_ I couldn’t explain my sudden theft, I would return it to Briala. She could have one of her people smuggle it back. I gazed up at the open sky, the moonlight dripped down, but the stars were hidden by the illuminating glow of the Palace.  

 

‘Now it feels like a real party,’ Dorian said wiping blood and grim off his hands and storing a looted staff behind a tall bush. He took Solas’ staff and did the same. It would be too suspicious to return to the party with weapons.

Cassandra handed me a hipflask and I could help giving her an appreciative glance. She huffed, ‘it’s water. Your face has run,’

‘My face,’ _what?_

‘Your lines.’

Of course, the gold paint covering my _vallaslin_ must have smudged. I gave my best attempt at washing my face off, I noted that the water faintly smelt of lemon, ‘better?’

‘Hmmm.’ Cassandra replied, not looking overly happy with my work.

Solas shook his head, removed the silver hat he was wearing and tore the red fabric from it. He discarded the hat in the same pile as the staffs and took the hipflask from me. Pouring water on the fabric he held it out to me. ‘Here,’ He said simply, I took it gratefully, and scrubbed at my face.

In the distance a bell chimed clear and sweet into the night, I glanced around ‘what does that mean?’

‘We’d better get back.’ Cassandra hissed.

 

Cassandra and I raced back to the Ballroom, before we would be locked out. We stopped just sort of the great doors to catch our breath. Cassandra gave me a look, ‘I joined the Seekers to get away from this.’

I gave her a nod, grateful to share the feeling with someone. ‘I understand why.’

‘Dancing,’ she smiled, ‘Andraste protect us.’

We stepped into the Ballroom again, _need to find Briala._ Seemingly purposelessly, I walked around the edge of the pit, swirling figures below in reds and golds gave me the impression that the sea had burst into flame. I shivered and kept going. Three matching figures approached me, women wearing the gilded mask of House Valmont.

‘Inquisitor Lavellan,’ the one on the right said, making a little cutesy, which the other two followed a moment later.

I gave them an incline of my head in response. The lady on the right glanced to the one in the middle, who took over, ‘We are here to deliver a message to you from the Empress.’

‘Of course,’ I said as smoothly as I could.

The lady on the left spoke up, ‘oh! This is so exciting.’

The middle woman gave her an ill-concealed glance of distain, ‘Empress Celene is eager to help the Herald of Andraste in her _holy endeavour_.’ Her lips twisted into a sneer, ‘and wishes to pledge full support to the Inquisition, once the usurper Gaspard is disposed.’  

‘She will also punish those responsible for the insult given at the theatre.’ The lady on the right said, turning slightly to indicate she believed the Grand Duke was responsible.

The three then curtsied in a perfect syncretised motion and retreated.

I watched them go, scuttling off to report back I imagined.

 

‘Fancy meeting you here?’ Briala’s voice drifted over to me. ‘Shouldn’t you be dancing inquisitor?’

I kept my face emotionless, ‘there are more important things for the moment.’ I said, a little smile breaking the mask.

‘What have you found?’ She asked.

‘You were right, there was trouble in the Servant’s quarters.’

She nodded, ‘taken care of?’

It was my turn to nod.

She sighed, ‘we’ll be scrubbing blood out of the marble for a month.’

‘Oh,’ I pulled the locket out of my pocket, ‘I found this,’

She cut me off by snatching the locket out of my hands, ‘where did you find this?’

‘Celene’s vault.’

‘Foolish woman,’ she inhaled sharply.

‘What is it?’

‘It’s mine.’ She said, turning away from me slightly. ‘It was mine.’ She corrected.

I looked her over, her shoulders are tightly drawn together. ‘You can learn from Andruil,’ I said soothingly. Softening the typical phrase, giving her the option to retreat, rather than demanding retreat.

I saw her glance up at the sky, and I know that she understood. ‘Learn from Andruil,’ she vocalised so quietly, I think I might not have heard her correctly.

‘Would you like to change your answer?’

She looked down at the locket, then back to me. And finally, she clutched the locket tightly in her hand, giving it back to me. ‘Yes. Show this to Celene.’  

 

On my way to the Empress, I was caught by the Grand Duchess. Of what I could see of her face, she seemed to share more similarities to Celene than Gaspard. ‘Inquisitor Lavellan?’ She asked.

I was unable to prevent a flash of irritation colouring my features, and I saw the Grand Duchess smile, smile like a hunter smiled when they spotted an easy target. ‘Are you any relation to the Lavellans of the Free Marches?’

I gave her a wiry nod, ‘that is my clan.’

‘Interesting,’ she said, in a way that ricocheted through my bones. ‘We met briefly, I am Grand Duchess Florianne.’

I bow my head to her, _I know._

‘Welcome to _my party.’_ She said with an indulgent sigh. Her high collar reminds me of a butterfly’s wing, and an image of her plucking the wings of helpless bugs comes to mind. I push the thought away. ‘It appears that you’ve been very busy this evening.’ She looks me up and down, no doubt noting my ruffled sash and bloodstained jacket. ‘Come, dance with me. No one shall overhear us on the dancefloor.’

She took my hand, and half-lead, half-dragged me to the pit. At the bottom she turned to me, ‘since when have the Dalish developed an interest in politics.’

I take her other hand as the music begins, ‘since we’ve been thrown into the centre of it.’

A coy smile graces the Grand Duchess’ lips. ‘You are a curiosity to many, inquisitor, a concern to others. Do you even know who is a friend and who is a foe?’

I blink, I know my feet are moving, but I didn’t have the Duchess’ long skirts to hide my stumbling steps, I heard the titters from above. I gritted my teeth and tried to focus on seeming graceful.

‘How did you enjoy the play?’

‘What?’ I hissed, accidentally stepping on the hem of her gown.

‘Shame, you didn’t stay until the end.’ She whispered spitefully, she pushed me back to get me off her dress. ‘Do you want to know how it ends?’ She spun me then without warning.

‘No.’ I breath, dizzy and unable to find my footing.

‘You’re _kicked out_ of the city.’ She snarled, tripping me. I fell backward, my head slamming into the polished ballroom floor. I watched, numb as she stepped over me, leaving me there on the floor.


	52. Backstabber

_My head is ringing._ I touched my hand to the side of my head, and it exploded under the pressure. The colours are all bleeding into one, and the world looks like the reflections on a pond after someone has thrown a pebble in.

_Masked gods ask questions._ I’m in the forest, the night before they carve the _vallaslin_ onto my face. Eight gods, each a Keeper in disguise. Each ask too many questions, probing and personal. Together they will help me make my choice. The Keeper with the dragon mask embraces me, the choice has been made. _I will be given to Mythal, who rose from the sea to save the sun._

 

The image disappears, as callused hand pulled me to my feet. _Cullen_. He looks worn, dark circles under his eyes and jaw tight in worry. ‘What happened?’ He asked quickly.

I glanced around, the shapes are becoming clearer with each heartbeat. The Empress is watching, the sun piece radiating out from her shoulders. But she wears a frown on her face. I rubbed my eyes, ‘Florianne pushed me,’ I saw with my hand across my mouth to muffle the sound.

‘What?’ He asked, looking behind him. Florianne is halfway out of the pit. ‘Maker’s breath.’ He cursed, turning rough to signal something to the others on the walkway. But as he turned, a masked dancer elbows Cullen in the stomach. He folded in half, eyes tight with the pain.

I stared at the man, wondering why he would do such a thing, who dances away as though he is perfectly innocent. Then I turned, Florianne was making her way to the Empress. I ran, leaving Cullen in the pit. I don’t know how I made my legs move. They run on instinct, some deep primal part of me. Up the steps. I catch Florianne glance back, she walks quicker. Palace guards appear before me to block my path. A guard makes a grab for me, but I ducked, stumbling forward.

I see Florianne approach the Empress, they exchange a whispered word and I see Florianne slide a dagger out of her sleeve. The slim knife shimmers in the candle light.

In a blur I reach Florianne as she is drawn to stab Celene. I push her with all my weight, the knife shoots out across the floor, the tip is red, leaving a sickening splatter of blood.

There is a hand in my hair, trying to rip it out. The Grand Duchess is stronger than me, I reach out for the knife in my boot, but I cannot move my arms. Her nails drag across my neck and I gasp in pain, then she’s hovering above me. I realise she’s been pulled back by two guards. Wretched from the ground her feet kick in the air.

I roll onto my front, pull myself into a crawl and find I am being pulled up, restrained as well. A dangerous silence falls, I cannot look behind me to see if the Empress is dead or alive. Briala pushed past me, a sob in her throat. Despite everything, I must have failed her. I do not resist the restraints placed upon me, I stand still and silent, listening to Florianne’s desperate pleas and promises in exchange for her freedom.

I beg forgiveness of the future, even with forewarning, I was unable to stop this. The heartbeats beat by, and I think of the _Last Duties_ , the final actions that one can perform for their clan. I do not know what my last duty will be, I do not know what last action I will be honoured with. What my clan will think when they plant a tree for me, when they build my marker. _I could not protect them_. I think bitterly. I wish that my arm was free so that I could touch the woven bracelet on my wrist, or so I could touch my _vallaslin_ again and know somewhere above me the gods know who I am. I will meet them soon-

Celene comes into view, her hand is clasped on her side, but there is less blood that I was expecting. Vivienne is on her right rapidly casting spells knitting her torn flesh back together. Briala is on her left, helping the Empress remain standing. She moves forcefully over to us, and the two women flit around her like butterflies. Celene pulls Florianne’s mask of her face, she throws it skidding across the floor with a clatter. The little sound echos around the room. ‘Why did you do this?’ She asked the Grand Duchess.

Florianne snarls in response, ‘I did it for you, brother.’

Celene slaps her with a bloody hand, a wet smack that I imagine can be heard from the back of the Ballroom. A red print is smeared across Florianne’s face. ‘Arrest the Grand Duke.’ Celene says wearily to the guard next to me.   

‘I did not want this,’ Gaspard protested, loudly from the pit. He does not fight them, only resigns himself to the fact that he has played the Game and lost.

‘Let the Inquisitor go,’ Empress Celene’s firm voice commands. And I am let go so suddenly that I drop to the ground. ‘Take her away,’ Celene gestures to Florianne.

‘You are a thief!’ Florianne’s voice rings out as she is dragged away, ‘you will kneel before Corypheus.’

I can only stare at her dumbfounded. _What?_

 

Josephine handed me a glass of wine, the Empress was taken into a private room to be patched up and change her torn dress. I can sense the tension in the room as the Court apprehensively waits for their lioness to return.  

‘That couldn't have gone worst,’ she said with a weak smile. ‘I thought you were doomed when you started dancing.’

‘It isn’t my strong suit,’ I said with a smile that didn’t quite reach my eyes.

Vivienne approached us, her hands still bloody, ‘Inquisitor, the Empress would like to see you.’

I nodded to Josephine and followed her to a private room. Vivienne backs away at the door.

When I approach, the Empress is sitting sipping a cup of tea, her side is bandaged up. She still looked pale, but I couldn’t tell if that was her normal colour or not. Her mask is laid across her lap. She looked a lot younger than I expect, younger than me. Her eyes are pale blue, like the colour of the sky before dusk.

‘Empress,’ I give her by best practised bow.

‘How did you know?’ She asked, looking up her eyes bright and alert.

I looked down, _I didn’t, until I saw the knife._ ‘Ambassador Briala helped me to uncover the plot.’ My cheeks flushed, but I hoped it would come across as humility rather than the consequences of a bold-faced lie. To cover it, I pull the locket out of my pocket and place it gently down in front of her.

The Empress closed her eyes, then looked up at me sharper than ever, ‘I don’t know why I kept it, it was a foolish thing to do.’

I smile, ‘that is what Ambassador Briala said as well.’

Celene looked me over, ‘she gave it to me for my coronation. It appears that I have let the theatre dictate my policy. I should have dared more, I failed her.’

‘Maybe, you kept it because you still care for her.’ The words are soft and seem to drift across the room slowly.

Celene closed her eyes again, ‘can I put her above all of the people of my empire?’

I stay silent, allowing her question to become rhetorical. I keep my eyes to the ground, but I notice she tucked the locket into her bodice.

‘And you were working together, you said?’

‘Yes,’ I replied as simply as I could. ‘I could not have caught Florianne in time, without her help.’

She took a sip of tea and placed the cup on a little table next to her, ‘the Inquisition has my support.’ She picked up her mask.

‘Will you reward the Ambassador?’ I ask as the mask covers her features.

Her response is covered, and I have no clue as to what she plans. ‘Please enjoy the rest of the ball. You have done so much for me, for Orlais.’

 

As I left the room, Briala passed me, ushered inside in my place, ‘Ambassador?’

She turned to me, pausing for only the moment I needed to pass on the developments. ‘Thank you for helping me uncover the plot.’

‘Of course.’


	53. Antivan Brandy

A hundred or more masked Orlesians crowded me to find out how the Empress is as I left the private room. I pushed past them, my mind in too much of a blur to consider giving anyone a diplomatic answer. I found Leliana in the throng, and I noted that her face is a little flushed.

‘What did Celene have to say?’ She asked as I approached.

I checked around, and at least six people stopped their conversations to listen in. Leliana chuckled and lead me through a double door to an abandoned balcony. The night air was sweet and cool on my face. I reached up to my neck, the scratches stinging slightly. ‘It appears that the Empress will be supporting the inquisition.’

‘That was well played then, no?’

I laughed bitted and pulled the hipflask out. ‘More like a lucky accident.’

‘Even so, it is a cause for celebration.’

I puffed out a breath, too much had happened this evening. Too much. ‘I cannot wait to get back home.’

‘Back to your clan?’ She queried, I am not sure if hear sadness in her voice.

I turned to her, surprising myself. ‘I was actually thinking of Skyhold. What have you done to me?’ I placed my hand across my chest signalling my mock protestations. I rubbed my eyes, ‘I need ten minutes, away from,’ I waved my hand back.

Leliana squeezed my hand gently, ‘of course.’ She shut the glass door behind her.

I looked up at the vast night sky, it appeared that someone was watching after me. I stand straighter, my fingertips gently touching the _vallaslin_ beneath my eyes. I breathed steadily, letting the tension drain away. I think of the dragon-goddess, Mythal, whose actions I instinctively followed tonight. ‘ _Mythal, all-mother, watching over me. Save me from darkness and I will sing your name to the heavens_.’ I repeat the prayer that should be said at dawn. The wind whipped up slightly and I imagine my words are carried to the feet of the goddess, watching from above, imprisoned by not powerless.

I dropped my hands, letting the feeling of numinous wash over me. Wondering briefly what offering could ever be enough to thank her.

I heard the balcony door open, ‘Leliana, give me a little longer.’ I lean down on the balcony, taking another sip from the hipflask.

‘I am not Leliana,’ Solas voice drifted over to me.

I laughed, but I didn’t turn, I wasn’t even really surprised anymore. He did have a habit of turning up in these moments. Instead I gestured for him to come over. ‘I’m only praying.’

He leaned, his back to the railing. ‘You do that a lot.’

I laughed, ‘I never used to be overly devout, but chaos seems to kindle belief.’ I offered him the hipflask. He took it. I briefly consider that I’ve never seen him drink before, I cannot help but turn, wondering what he would be like. I find that I am unable to stop myself watching as he parts his lips to take a sip. _Fuck, will he taste of Antivan brandy?_ I cleared my throat, and he looked over. Blue eyes watching every move.

‘I do adore the heady blend of power, intrigue, danger and sex that permeates these events.’

 _Creators save me._ I looked over to see a slight smile tugging on the corner of his mouth. I’m dizzy, deliciously dizzy, and not really dizzy at all. _He knows exactly what he’s doing._ I laughed, louder than I meant to, an almost hysterical sound. I feel the blush rising in chest, till it reached the tips of my ears. ‘You’re actually enjoying this place.’ I managed to say, _look at the garden._

He takes a deep breath, sucking in the air through his teeth, ‘I had forgotten how much I loved this.’

I glance across again, ‘you’ve been at court before?’ _Stop being coy,_ I told myself sternly.

‘Ah,’ I noted that his expression flickered for a moment, like a candle touched for a moment by the wind. ‘Never directly, of course,’ he takes my hand and pulled me to face him. ‘Dance with me?’

With my free hand, I pulled my hair back from my neck, ‘I still have scars from the last dance.’

Solas ignores me and put his hand on my waist, pulling me so close we were pressed together. ‘Come now, before the music ends.’ His breath is hot on my ear.

‘I can’t dance,’ I laughed breathlessly as he tries to lead me with small steps. I look down, trying to see the movements and where to go.

‘I can, look up.’ He commanded. And I did, ‘see.’ He said, a grin on his face.

He dips me suddenly and I squeal in delight and grip onto him. He lightly kissed the scratches on my neck, and I hiss at the sudden sparks that trail down my skin. When I’m righted again, I pulled away from his grasp and wrapped my hands around his neck. I reached up on tip-toes to kiss him. _He does taste of brandy. Sweet and smoky._ His arms wrapped around me in return, pulling me ever closer. I moaned into his mouth and he pulled back. ‘Scandalous, Inquisitor.’

I laughed, _he’s probably right,_ and bit my bottom lip gently, ‘let them talk.’ I let a hand fall, till it rests on his chest, ‘I’m sure there are plenty of dark corners, let them _really_ talk.’

It took him a heartbeat to understand exactly what I was implying, but a smirk spread across his face when it did, ‘what an interesting proposal,’ his voice was husky. His fingers gripped my hips tightly, then they loosen all at once and my body protests the sudden loss of his touch.

The door glass door opened with a scrap across the tilted floor. I don’t try to stop the huff of annoyance that leaves me. I think briefly that I am going to strangle whoever comes through that door.

‘Morrigan please.’ I heard Leliana’s frustrated voice snap behind me.

‘Well, well, what have we here.’ An unfamiliar mocking voice says.

I dropped my hands and step back from Solas, I hope that my face matches his as his features are dripped with fury. He takes a step back, ‘the offer still stands.’ I said to him.

He looked back at me, his eyes dark dip down to look at my lips and then back to my eyes. He nodded and retreated back into the Ballroom, a look passing between him and Leliana as he does so.

I crossed my arms, and grumpily turn to the intruder. I give her a disinterested look. Her bodice is too tight and forces her breasts upwards, that combined with a large necklace seems to act as an arrow straight towards her cleavage. Though I realise, _that might be the point._

‘Who are you?’


	54. Advisor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Lavellan meets Morrigan, and first impressions are not... great.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahhh, sorry it took a few days longer than usual to update. I realised that I'd written myself into a corner with the next chapter, so had to re-write this one! Woops!  
> Enjoy lovelies - Hezjena xx

‘Who are you?’ I asked the woman, my armed across my chest. My annoyance was barely concealed, and yet she seemed to take it in good humour.

‘I appear to have disturbed you.’

Leliana gave me a warning look from behind her, and I had a sneaking suspicion who this woman would turn out to be. _What had Leliana called her? The arcane advisor? The occult advisor?_ ‘It’s fine.’ I said.

‘The Leader of the new Inquisition,’ her voice was smoky and seemed to fill up the space between us. ‘fabled herald of the faithful.’ Though from her lips it sounded like a criticism. ‘They are making drunken toasts to your victory, do you tire of them so quickly, Inquisitor? Tis fickle, after all of your efforts.’

‘Fickle?’ I chuckled, ‘hardly. I came out for air.’ A blush stained my cheek and I hated myself for it, it had been true.

She gave me a sharp look, matched with a coy smile that made me very aware of exactly what she’d walked in on. ‘Air? Well, don’t let me interrupt your… breathing.’

I closed my eyes for a moment. _Mother Mythal get me through this madness!_ I turned from her resting my arms on the railings too look over the gardens. The stone was cold and soft against my skin. ‘You already have.’ My words were quiet, but not cruel.

Morrigan laughed, ‘indeed.’ She conceded. ‘Tis a sorry reward for such an _exulted_ creature.’ She moved her hands to her hips and tilted her head in a way to chastise me, her eyes raked across me.

I frowned at her use of the word ‘exalted’. I didn’t know if it was simply an Andrastian honorific or a disdainful reference to my Dalish heritage? I spun back to face her, but she didn’t eye my _vallaslin_ as I expected. ‘I know who I am, I asked who you were.’ I supressed a scowl, ‘I take it you are the Occult Advisor?’  

Her foot tapped lightly, impatiently on the ground. ‘Some do call me that.’ She paused, ‘I am Morrigan.’ She announced proudly, and I exchanged a glance with Leliana.

 _Was I supposed to know who she was?_ I gave her a nod as though I did, ‘and, so do you have any occult wisdom to impart?’ I asked, trying to sound genuinely curious.

A cunning smile split across Morrigan’s face, ‘I know many things.’

‘I see.’ I said softly, sharing another look with Leliana behind me. _How useful._ Leliana seemed to be having trouble keeping her face straight.

‘Celene wishes to give you all and any aid including mine.’ Morrigan said grandly, her arms spread as she spoke.

Leliana interrupted with a quick bitter laugh, ‘you would wish to join the inquisition?’

Morrigan rounded on her, the feathers on her shoulder fluttered helplessly and I had the image of a bird flapping desperately to escape the jaws of a hungry cat, ‘My personal interest is irrelevant, an assignment has been given to me.’ She turned back to me, ‘your opponent wields great magical power, you will require my knowledge to defeat such magic.’ Her spine stretched as she spoke, making herself taller. I was completely unsure what to make of this woman.

‘Fortune telling?’ That sort of rubbish?’ Leliana scoffed stepping forward to be more involved in the conversation, ‘Morrigan, you cannot be serious.’

‘I know many obscure, forgotten and forbidden arts. Surely, it behoves you to add to your arcane arsenal.’ Morrigan spoke, her voice suddenly a whisper. Her eyes never left my face. She held the pose for a long moment and then glanced to Leliana her eyes squinting slightly. ‘Beyond that, it is Celene’s wish.’

Leliana glanced at me, then smoothed her face beneath her invisible mask to acknowledge the defeat of the verbal battle I’d only just that moment realised we’d been having. ‘Very well, meet us at Skyhold within the month.’

‘A most gracious response,’ Morrigan declared giving Leliana a wink, ‘tis good to see you again, Leliana.’ She raised a hand to lightly brush Leliana’s cheek.

‘I am glad that you’ve finally learned how to dress.’ Leliana retorted pulling away sharply from her touch.

Morrigan opened the door, letting the music and voices spill into the night. The glass door slammed such and silence reigned again.  

‘Cruel, cruel bitch.’ Leliana snarled under her breath.

‘How do you know her?’ I asked, curiously.

‘We,’ she paused finding the right words, ‘worked together during the fifth blight. She was just as charming back then.’ Leliana’s mask fell down with a mighty silent crash and the full force of her distain for Morrigan became clear, ‘Her motivation is greed, that she believes to be a thirst for knowledge. She will mine you till all that remains is ash. She’s a monster, Andraste forgive us, she had us kill her mother.’

‘What?’ I gasped blinking at her in horror.

Leliana looked up but did not meet my eyes. She then shook her head. ‘I am led to believe that her mother survived, yet, the sorry affair was all so that Morrigan could steal a book from her. Do not under estimate Morrigan’s ruthlessness.’

I nodded, absorbing the new information. And then I considered her barely concealed hostility to me, ‘do you think I did something to offend her?’ I asked after a couple hundred heartbeats.

‘She is faithless, it must be difficult for her to see the _herald_ raised so high,’ Leliana smiled, ‘that and you have taken her from her treasured place at court.’

I shook my head, to deny both accusations. And Leliana raised her hand to show me I didn’t need to protest, and she understood. ‘I will keep her closely watched at Skyhold.’

I nodded grateful, then I shook my head, ‘I’d better get back to the toasts in my honour.’ I stood, steeling myself to return to the golden room with the pit in the centre.

‘Hellana,’ Leliana gave me a measured look, and then gave me a sly smile, ‘I believe that the library would be disserted.’


	55. Between the Bookcases

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lavellan and Solas spend some time in the library, because what else is the Winter Palace good for?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fair warning, this chapter is pretty much just smut! If it’s not your sort of thing, feel free to skip this one - Hezjena xx

I snuck through the heavy door to the library. It was dark, and clearly off limits. _What am I doing?_ I thought desperately as my eyes adjusted to the darkness, I saw just how large the room was, bookcases lined every wall and full of desks. I suspected that it could comfortably fit two ballrooms in. I took a breath to steady the nervousness that threatened to bubble up in my chest. _Be brave, little hare._

The brandy still burned in the throat and I was deliciously warm. I chastised myself lightly at the foolhardiness of my question, but couldn’t help the rush of giddy excitement that coursed through my veins. _It was dangerous, but dangerous on my terms._ My footsteps echoed lightly against the shelves of leather-bound tomes as I moved further into the room. I was definitely alone, I lend against one of the heavy wooden desks to wait, and then jumped up, swinging my legs impatiently. _A few whispered words with Leliana was apparently all it took to arrange this madness._ She had been surprisingly unfazed by helping me set up a tryst. Time ticked by achingly slowly until at last the door cracked opened.

A sliver of light darted across the polished floor and was gone a heartbeat later. A heartbeat of blinding darkness, and for a split second had a horrible thought that Leliana might have betrayed me. Yet, I could make out a figure that I knew intimately. ‘Solas.’

‘Hellana?’ He asked, drawing nearer.

I felt utterly intoxicated, and I was almost completely sure it had nothing to do with anything I’d drunk. _Creators preserve me, this was going to happen._

‘Our spymaster gave me quite a garbled message,’ he paused, worried eyes raking across me, ‘are you hurt?’

I waved a flippant hand, lighthearted brushing off his concern, ‘I believe she was just correcting a past mistake.’ _Be brave,_ I spread my arms grandly indicating to the library, ‘a little better than a dark corner, you think?’ My words sounded husky to me, and I drew upon the confidence acquired by brandy.

‘Ah,’ he stopped in front of me,his hands on my knees. He gave me a searching look, his eyebrows knitted together uncertainty, ‘you want this?’

 _Gods, yes._ I had to laugh at the incredulous look on his face, and I moved my knees apart. ‘Sweet man,  I am drunk, I am alive and I want you.’ I clarified. I cursed the darkness, I wanted to trace the constellations in his freckles.

It took him a moment to respond, but then the sense of urgency became apparent, his hands moved to my hips and my legs crossed behind him pulling him closer. His fingers tightened, sliding me forward on the table. I clenched my fists into his jacket. I could feel his heart frantically beating under the velvet, _Good gods, he smells of copper._ I realised with a little shock that he was still splattered with the blood of my enemies. I closed my eyes, a little moan in the back of my throat.

Hips together, although clothed, I could feel him straining against his trousers. It had been over a month of lingering glances and stolen kisses, I let my impatience ripple through me, not sure I could be persuaded to wait another moment. My arms wrapped around his neck, pulling his down to kiss him fiercely.

I broke away, panting, then leaned back, so my mouth traced the line of his jaw. ‘Do you want this?’ I echoed his words.

Incoherent, but positive sounds drifted down from above, which I took as consent and began fumbling at our clothes. Despite my bravado on to the topic, the thought of being discovered prevented us from taking much off. My trousers ended up pulled tight against my thighs, pushed only as far down as the high boots would allow. I giggled at the ridiculousness of the situation as we had to stop to pull the hidden daggers out of my clothes. Twelve in total. 

Solas bit my neck and licked the mark, the hot breath on my skin making my back arch.

I pulled back, both arms around his neck, I licked my lower lip, ‘it feel like I’ve just come of age, sneaking out for the first time.’

He grinned, ‘Hellena,’ he whispered like he was sharing a secret with me, ‘we are sneaking about.’

I rolled my eyes, then tried to push myself onto him, but the angle was wrong, ‘what are you waiting for?’ I demanded playfully, ‘take me already.’

His eyes went dark for a moment but thankfully he did as he was bid. He sank into me and my hands could only flutter uselessly behind his back. _‘Good gods,’_ I hissed. I rocked forward, desperately trying to increase the friction.

Solas fingers dug into my hips, I was sure I would find my hips speckled with fingerprint bruises in the morning. A stream of elvish dripped from his lips and I maybe understood every tenth word. I cursed how little I knew, but the music of his words sang across my skin. I shivered with pleasure.

My hands flew behind my head, sending books and papers clattering to the floor. I pushed roughly against the smooth wood of the desk, wanting, needing to respond in kind. I reached up, grabbing his collar pulling him down to bite at his lip. He hissed into my mouth, and jumped his hands up from my hips to keep his balance. Flames burned in my belly and if I hadn’t know any better, I would have thought he was casting fire.

 _Painter’s hands,_ the errant thought fluttering across my mind and I felt my skin burn more than I had when he was in me. I knew that I will not last long. _Good gods,_ I thought again, unable to come up with a more suitable prayer. I clutched at his skin, unable to control my trembling motions. It feels as though every muscle in my body becomes taught, ‘ _good gods’_ I whispered again, utterly too far gone to think of anything new. I held onto Solas like a woman drowning, and I do not let go.

Even once the waves have dissipated, I am unprepared to let go. I don’t know at what point I closed my eyes, but I open them again to see him watching me with dark eyes.

‘We should get back.’ He said reasonably after a long moment.

‘Absolutely not,’ I retort, the very idea was abhorrent to me.

He begins to pull back, but I only cling. ‘Hellana,’ he smirks.

I blinked, desperate to find any way to make him stay, at least for another moment. I nuzzled into his chest. ‘Consider it a command,’ I murmured into the thick fabric still covering his chest.

He chuckles but allows me to soak in the moment.


	56. Blood Lotus

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Content warnings for this chapter - mention and discussion of contraception and abotificants.

I woke with a bolt, panic drenched through my bones. I tried to sit up, but found I was being held down my sleepily, clingy arms. It’s dark, pitch black and I realise I might have fucked up. I feel the looming bookcases mocking me. _How long have we been here?_

‘Hellana?’ Solas’ groggy voice asked from somewhere to the right of me.

‘We need to go,’ I hissed.

He sighed, ‘go where?’ And tried to pull me back to the bed. _Bed?_ I didn’t remember leaving the Winter Palace, but I silently thanked the gods I was no longer there. The memory was starting to come back to me, we had returned separately. I had been forced to make painful small talk with a number of costumed Orlesians. I rubbed my eyes, _I had survived the Winter Palace._

From the sunbeams floating carelessly through the double windows, I guessed that it was mid-afternoon when I woke again.

‘You’re not in the Winter Palace.’ A slightly groggy voice said from besides me.

I turned to find Solas, watching me with one eye open. We were wrapped up together in the borrowed bed in Vivienne’s apartment. ‘I realise that,’ I began.

‘You’ve woken me up four times to tell we have to leave.’ His voice betrayed only the slight hint of annoyance.

‘Ah, I’m sorry.’ I whispered, feeling guilty.

‘I should have been more careful.’ He said sharply, not quite meeting my eyes.

 _So that’s how we’re going to talk about it_. ‘More careful?’ I repeated, tasting the words, feigning ignorance.

‘Yes.’ A quick, snapped word and I wonder where this change in temperament has come from. ‘It was dangerous, and I should not have indulged you.’

I ran my tongue over my teeth, ‘what?’

He paused, and threw his head back, a flicker of frustration passing across his lips. Then he closed his eyes and softened, ‘do you know if you need blood lotus infusion, I realise that there is a time period.’

‘What?’ I repeated, this time utterly confused.

He growled lightly and threw an arm over his eyes, ‘I will try to speak to you again when you’re actually awake.’

I could only stare, _blood lotus infusion_ , I’d heard of such a thing of course, a particularly bitter drink with a fortunate side effect of _curing mistakes of passion_ I heard echo from the depths of my memory in Dirthanna’s preachy voice. It had never mattered, I’d never drunk it. I’d never needed it.

‘Why would I need,’ I broke off suddenly, _he didn’t know._ I laughed without meaning too, earning a scowl. _What a situation to find myself in_ , _the gods really must be laughing at me!_ ‘It isn’t necessary.’ I tried for lighthearted, from his look it was definitely the wrong tone to have struck. I sobered and tried again, ‘it is _never_ necessary.’

He huffed the disapproval practically dripping off him. ‘So you wish to be careless, and,’

I cut him off, ‘I cannot have children.’ I snapped angrily. Angry that the conversation had spiralled out of control rather than angry that the conversation was happening at all.

He froze, surprised. ‘I apologise,’ he said eventually. I could see the revelation settling in his mind. I watched him come to terms with it. _Surprisingly easily._ I had made my peace with childlessness years ago. There had been some in my clan who whispered mocking about the misfortunes that had befallen me, but Dirthanna has silenced them and they had not begun again once Deshanna became Keeper. I had told some previous partners, and others I had no reason to tell, but most of those I had told had not reacted well.

‘Is it common among the Dalish?’ Solas queried, sounding calm.

‘Not uncommon,’ I replied as honestly as I could, though in truth I couldn’t speak for any other clan.

His jaw tightened. _Maybe not that easily._

 _‘_ Don’t worry about it, it’s not your fault. Just something that happens.’

He took an unshaky breath. ‘I did not know.’ He looked hurt, reminding me of an injured halla.

‘What do you mean?’ I scoffed playfully, desperately trying to lighten the tone. ‘There was hardly a reason to discuss it before now, and it’s like I enjoy talking about the decay and death of our people!’

‘Our people? I’m sorry, I don’t know what you’re talking about.’

I smiled, watching for a punchline that didn’t come.

‘Oh yes, the _elves_.’ He sneered the word like a curse and I felt the smile drop off my face. Fury rose in my gut and for a heartbeat I considered hitting him. I did not.

‘Get out.’ I whispered instead, letting all my fury poison my words.

He glanced surprised at my sudden change of mood. ‘Wh.’

‘You heard me.’ I repeated, cupping his cheek for bittersweet emphasis. ‘I said _get out_ lethallin.’ I used the archaic pronunciation, the one he used on that damned mountain. His face tightens, I don’t know if it’s because I’ve thrown his words of kinship back at him, or if it’s because it’s not a term that anyone would use for their lover.

He nods. Eyes dark, a twisted expression of too many emotions fighting on his face.

I closed my eyes, I don’t want to watch him leave. I feel sick in my stomach that I might have just ended everything, but I knew in my soul I could never have accepted myself if I had let those words go unanswered.

The moments trickle by, and he growled lightly causing me to look across. He racked a hand across his scalp. ‘Forgive me, Hellana. It has been too long since I cared for anyone.’

I rubbed at my eyes, _Cared,_ the word ripped through me like an arrow. I took a moment to collect myself, _it’s hardly romantic,_ I scolded myself. ‘You have a funny way of showing it.’

He nodded again, like he was accepting this defeat. I looked to the uncurtained window. The sun was making its way out from behind a cloud, spilling sunlight down. _Save the sun, beautiful things should be fought for._ ‘Solas,’ I said as his hand was on the door handle, _be brave,_ ‘You’re forgiven.’

He tilted his head, then nodded for the third time and left me.

I lay back in the bed, _creators preserve me!_ I rolled over, feeling a sob wretch up in my throat and hugged a pillow tight. _It smelt of him._ I threw the pillow across the room.

I stood, snatching up the robe de chambre and wrapped it tightly around me. I didn’t want to see the faint fingerprint bruises that dotted my hips. I didn’t want to think about how good I’d felt only a few minutes before. _The gods are laughing at you Hellana!_

I sat in the large chair by the window, tucking my legs underneath me. I had to consider the next course of action. By rights, I should be dressing and going down to the garden to give offerings of thanks to Mythal for getting me back out through the gilded doors. Although, I couldn’t quite bring myself to leave, if I left whatever had been between Solas and I was over. Gone like the leaves in Winter. Could I risk it?

I glanced back to the window and down, my left hand clutching hard at my wrist where my woven bracelet would normally be. I pulled my hand away and it pulses green gently, and I drop it. I note that the mark has stopped shooting pain through my bones, within the last week, as though whatever _stolen_ magic it is that has taken up residence is becoming familiar with me. _Be brave,_ the ever constant voice reminded me. I stood, and dressed. The gods would wait for no woman.


	57. The Ties of Kin and Clan

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Having been burnt by Solas' words, Lavellan escapes to the rooftop to spend some time to herself. She considers the clan she has left and the path she is on.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Woops! Got a bit burnt out by the Winter Palace, but hopefully now it's over I should be back to normal - Hezjena xx

When I got the roof terrace, I wanted to hit something or scream. Maybe cry. I put down the little cup of water that I had brought and leaned against the railing looking over the roof-tops of Halamshiral. _I am Dalish,_ I thought furiously, _I will not submit, not to the_ shem _and not to your damned taunts._ The sun was bright, and the sky unclouded. I could see over the low part of the city, _they submitted._ The cruel part of my mind reminds me, back when the Dales were independent.

I rubbed my eyes. _Kinship._ Such a little word, such a complicated concept. One I always used as a promise, I had spoken such to Fiona and done everything in my power to keep her people safe. I even said the same to Briala and helped her up the Orlesian ladder of power. And yet, when Solas had gone back on it. Maybe the Inquisitor was kin, but not me? Whatever his aims the inquisition had been saved by his actions. I sighed, the mess of motives was starting to make my head hurt. I rubbed my eyes, I could only move forward.

 

I went through the motions that I have done since I was a child, the old motions calmed the raging tempest of thoughts. I raised the small cup of water upward into the air, ensuring that I did not spill any of the cool water. Then I brought it back down again. I placed it gently on the ground in front of me and touch my fingertips to the lines under my cheeks. I said the words that must be spoken, to placate Mythal, the dragon-faced lady, and to offer my thanks for her help getting me out of the Winter Palace. I sat for a long moment, soaking in the sun. It was good to be back, to be outside again. I would have giving my right arm for a tree to sit under, to feel the twisted bark behind my back, for the grounding reassurance that life continued. It left like a half a lifetime had passed since I was in this spot sparring with Cassandra.

I straightened my back, about to get up when I noticed my woven bracelet was slightly frayed. I tucked the offending thread back to its correct place, it had been a beautiful day like this when I had been given it by the Hunters, the day before I had left the clan.

My finger touching the longest thread, the thread given by Jilna. Little, sweet Jilna. I smiled at the thought. She was the newest of our little group and the night I left she had tears in her eyes. It was the first time Jilna had taken a part in the Weaving Ritual, where each of the Hunters each blindly pulled a thread, the shortest one would take on the quest set by the Keeper. The longest threads were woven together as a charm, to hand over their ‘better luck’ and as an insurance that the hunters would be reunited. Jilna had been first to pick her thread, with the marks of Ghilan’nain still fresh on her face, she had hesitated before pulling a thread. I remember glancing at Sil and I silently knew in that moment that if she had picked the shortest one then one of us would have taken her place. She pulled the longest thread and we shared a breathed a sigh of relief.

I smiled to myself, I missed Sil, though I’d never let him know. My finger hovered over the middle thread. We had always been close. He was reckless, quick with a joke and destructively loyal. The shock of brilliant white hair had given him the name Silver, ever shortened to Sil so much that his birth name had become long forgotten. He had taken the asymmetrical twisted flame _vallaslin_ of Sylaise, in honour of the grandmother we’d shared.

The last thread belonged to Vaelantine, easily the wisest of our clan. Aloof and independent, she had a knack for climbing and could often be found in the trees over our camp. Watching down from above with bright eyes. She had taken on the task of weaving the bracelet for me, and she was the one who gave it to me. ‘Come back to us.’ She’d whispered to me under the open sky, a request for me and a prayer at the same time.

I missed them deeply, the separation ached liked I’d lost a limb. I blinked and picked up the little offering cup and poured the contents into the nearest flower pot, disposing of the offering before it could become spoiled. As I did so I noticed that Josephine had been patiently waiting for me to finish. I flushed, a little embarrassed that I’d forced her to wait. ‘I didn’t realise you were there.’ I said quickly.

She shook her head, ‘I did not wish to disturb your devotions.’

 _Devotions and reminiscences._ I gave her a smile to acknowledge how far we’d come, Josephine never questioned my rituals, but also didn’t disrespect them. Which only made me like her more. This afternoon she was wearing her hair piled up on top of her head, and I noticed the slightest shadow under her eyes to mark the lateness of the hour that she’d gone to bed at. She straightened her clipboard, a signal that this wasn’t an informal meeting. ‘There are reports of unrest in the Exalted Plains,’

My heart beat in my ears and I interrupted her without meaning to. ‘I have always wanted to see _Dirthavaren_.’

Her eyes flicked to my face from her notes, ‘yes, the Promise, it has been the backdrop of the fighting during the civil war, but it appears that the news of Gaspard’s defeat has done nothing to dampen the enthusiasm of those fighting there. Celene has asked us to send a delegation to see if we can smooth over any tensions.’

‘How long will it delay us getting back to Skyhold?’ I queried.

‘A quick detour not longer than a week or so.’

I nodded. ‘Have you heard anything back from Wycome?’ I asked distracted.

Josephine shook her head, ‘nothing yet unfortunately.’

I frowned, ‘so when do we leave?’

Josephine shuffled some papers, ‘tomorrow or the day after?’

‘The day after,’ I decided. Undisturbed sleep would be good.

Once we had worked out the rest of the details she left me again.

 

I sat in the afternoon sun, hopeful of what the future was going to bring. I could barely contain my excitement that I would be going to _Dirthavaren_. As far as I knew, no one from our clan had visited _Dirthavaren_ in three generations, or the Promise as Josephine had translated. The land that was the birthplace of the Dalish. I knew that after the escape from Tevinter, the land had been gifted to the elves by the grateful Andrastrians. It was a land where the idea of the Dalish developed, where my ancestors had tried to reclaim the lost knowledge of Elvhenan. The dream of a place where we could once again be free from _shem_ interference. Yet in just three hundred years, the _shem_ had stolen it back. The elves would not submit to the _shem_ again, became scattered across Thedas, becoming the Dalish.  

I knew logically that all that was left in the Promise was scattered bones and dreams. But my forebear, Lavellan, the Emerald Knight who had given their name to our clan had once stood there. I wanted nothing more than anything to see the land for myself, and I smiled, Sil would foam at the mouth with jealousy when I told him I’d been there.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I haven't bothered to add translations because they're either common words or translated in text, but please let me know if you want them! :D


	58. Leaving Val Royeaux

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lavellan and the gang begin the journey to the Exalted Plains, Vivienne and Lavellan have a little friendly chat.

The departure from Vivienne’s apartment in Val Royeaux was not at all the happy, victorious departure I’d been expecting. It was a solemn march out of the city as we resumed our duties. We had divided into two groups as Leliana had wanted to rush back to sort out the situation with the spy, and so Josephine and Cullen had gone with her directly back to Skyhold. Josephine had argued that her talents would serve us better in her office than on the field. Cullen, needed real rest to recuperate from the stab wound, despite it being magically healed, the most talented mages couldn't replace a good long nap. I had wanted to properly speak to Leliana before she left, but she was a silent mess of guilt and worry, and I was unable to exchange more than a few words with her. So, they parted from us at the city gates leaving the five of us to continue onto the Promise. A few weeks ago, I had never though that I would actually be happy to see Betsie again, but as I climbed into the saddle, I felt a sense of lightness. My bow was back across my shoulders where it belonged and wearing my cut out Dalish armour, I almost felt like myself. Yet, whatever joy I felt was damped by my companions.

I was hardly speaking more to Solas, we had become painfully, perfectly careful. No more careless touches or lingering glances. The emptiness stretched between us. I still felt the sting of his words acutely, the sudden, unexpected betrayal. When I looked at him, my insides turned icy as his cold blue eyes. I’d had a thousand clues of his disdain for the Dalish and yet. _What had I expected? For him to simply forget it because we'd- uggg._ I didn’t listen and then had been shocked by his words. And Dorian and Cassandra were hardly any better, something had upset Dorian the night of the Ball and he snapped and snarled whenever I tried to speak to him. Cassandra was her usual cheerful self, she rode in front with a scowl carved on her face. I almost wondered if it would have been better to have sent her with the other group. She acknowledged me when necessary and I wondered what I could have done to offend her so badly.

 

So, I found myself riding next to Vivienne in the early afternoon, when we were far away from Halamshiral. The group had broken apart as soon as we were away from the city, just close enough to keep in sight in case of trouble, but each allowed their mounts to find their own paths. Vivienne had broken the unspoken agreement and had pulled alongside me.

‘Darling, are you still brooding?’ She asked.

I flicked her a playful annoyed glance, ‘I am not brooding.’ _I was not! Actually, maybe a little._

‘Come along, your dancing was not that bad.’ She paused, adjusting the horned headdress she insisted on wearing even into battle. ‘I can teach you if you like?’

I smiled, but shook my head, ‘A most kind offer, but,’ I sighed, ‘if you ever find me on a ballroom floor again, it will be too soon.’

‘My dear, I had no idea you would be that terrible!’ She laughed, knocking back her head, ‘though it did appear to all work out in the end.’

I nodded and wrapped the reigns around one hand so my free hand could briefly touch the lines beneath my eyes. _Thank the creators, it did work out well in the end._ I remembered the day I’d inadvertently interrupted her speaking with her contract. ‘No one offered me oranges in the end.’ I commented.

She nodded, her eyes dazzling, a smile tugging at her lips, ‘shame. You could have dazzled with politeness.’

I was extremely grateful that Vivienne was still speaking to me, ever graceful, ever constant Vivienne. I knew exactly why they called her the Lady of Iron, and yet she was unfailingly kind to me. _I hope that I don’t disappoint her._ ‘Will you miss the court?’ I asked after a few heartbeats.

I noticed her hands tighten on her own reigns, ‘I shall miss Bastien,’ her voice was wistful.

‘He’s more than welcome at Skyhold.’

She gave me a sad smile, ‘he’s unwell my dear, I fear the cold would make him worse.’

‘ _Ir abelas_ ,’ I said quickly _,_ ‘I am sorry,’ I repeated, translating instinctively. ‘I didn’t know.’

She straightened on her mount and gave me a quick smile. ‘The Maker will watch over him while I am gone.’

I gave her a nod and a glance at the open sky. _Creators watch over him too._ The Duke had quite a few years on Vivienne, but they were so perfectly matched that it was barely noticeable. I felt a stab of guilt at tearing them apart. ‘If you’d rather be with him,’ I began.

She laughed, ‘of course I would, but I believe you will need me, my dear.’

I gave her a grateful smile, I did need her.

‘Where did you disappear off to the other night? Some nasty little gossip was suggesting you were getting off with a servant, I had to,’

‘Not a servant.’ I interrupted, instinctively and she snapped her gaze to me.

I saw her tasting my words, and watched the pieces fall into place. She raised her eyebrows at me, and I looked away. _Focus on looking forward._ I told myself.

She tutted, ‘well, I suspect it was bound to happen, all those lingering looks between you and our Solas.’

I clenched my jaw. Flashed her a little glare.

‘You don’t seem happy about it.’ She added slowly, carefully.

I shifted in the saddle, ‘some things were said, things that _shouldn’t_ have been said.’

She didn’t reply for a long moment. Her horse whinnied and she gently patted the side of the horse’s face, ‘it’s alright, girl.’ She said softly. After a few minutes in companionable silence, Vivienne turned back to me. ‘My dear, the are still quite a few Circles that are willing to take on apostates.’

I gave her a blank look.

‘I could write, if you wish to simply get rid of the problem.’

My eyes widened in shock, and I realised she was perfectly sincere. ‘No,’ I said quickly. _Only Vivienne would suggest such a thing._ I appreciated that Vivienne believed she was being kind to me, giving me an easy way out of any trouble. But, I would not subject Solas to that life, no matter what heartless words he threw at me. I would not answer betrayal with betrayed. I tried to smile, keep my words clear, ‘that wouldn’t do at all.’ I answered.

She gave me a knowing look, and I realised it was a test. I wasn’t sure if I’d passed or not until she laughed breathlessly. ‘Of course not, darling, we have no idea when we shall require another dull lecture on the fade.’ She raised an eyebrow at me.   

I covered my laugh with my hand and glanced around nervously. Solas was well out of earshot, _thank the gods_. I licked my lip, unsure what to say.

She tilted her head to me conspiratorially, ‘a peculiar one, so much knowledge and so little personal history.’

I nodded and sighed, once again I asked myself what I really knew about the man. I knew what he’d done for me, the traitorous part of my mind argued back. ‘A kind offer, but it's not necessary.’ I said with a slight smile, feeling a little warm.

She gave me a nod, as though she didn’t quite agree.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Edited - 24/06/19


	59. Dépaysement

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lavellan arrives in the Exalted Plains and whatever this place is, it doesn't appear to be home.

I took my first steps into the Exalted Plains, stepping carefully over the ancient broken tiles. My hand ran along the crumbling soft stone, it was faintly cool to the touch. We followed an ancient path through a rocky tunnel, in places it was so low that we’d been forced to dismount. I walked leading Betsie behind me. Following the ancient path had set a stone in my stomach. I desperately wished that Sil was with me. He would have laughed at my apprehension and raced ahead, calling out all the wonders that he’d found and that I was missing.

‘Camp should be ahead.’ Cassandra said, making me jump and bringing me back to the moment, ‘Scout Harding said she would set up a camp for us on the Path of Flame.’

Her words sent a shudder through me and I looked down at the broken tiles. _The Path of Flame._ I imagined them getting hotter, I imagined the echoing footfalls of the Andrastian army storming through to reclaim the Promise, swords out, touches lit. On the other side, the ancient Dalish making their last stand before they were scattered. I touched the woven bracelet on my wrist, calling the Hunters to me in spirit. The rock began to raise sharply away, and for a moment I was blinded by the bright sunlight. In the glare, I heard a shuffling in front of me, and as my eyes adjusted, I saw two inquisition agents lowering their weapons.

A couple of heartbeats later, I took my first sight of the Promise and my heart sunk. The stench of acrid smoke told me I was stepping into a warzone. I glanced around to me to spot arched ruins dot the landscape and my heart hurt. _The birthplace of the Dalish._ This could have been my home. The grass was a pale, anaemic green and even the rocks themselves look tortured. _The home that was foreign to me._ I saw Scout Harding approaching, ‘long bloody history this place.’ She grunted, seeing me glancing around. I gave her a dark look, which she took with a sigh as though to say _tell me about it_. ‘There are rebels, they call themselves the Freemen of the Dales. Recently emerged and adding to the chaos.’

‘Freeman of the Dales?’ I query, tasting the words.

She gives me a look that tells me in some part she shares my distaste, ‘they seem to be simple deserters, tired of fighting and dying. But now,’ her eyes flicked away from my face, ‘they want the Dales for their own.’

Freeman of the Dales, men of the Dales. _Shem trying to take what belonged to the Dalish._ The taste is bitter in my mouth. I rolled my head back, looking up at the open sky, ‘course some _shem_ want to claim this place.’

Harding nodded with a flash of sympathy in her eyes, ‘they are more organised than we anticipated, be wary.’ 

‘Good luck to them.’ I laughed bitterly, ‘no one keeps this place for long.’ I looked across and was instantly distracted by a large mural painted across one of the rocks. Stylised elves chained together, the paint was flaking away, and I thanked Harding before going over to look closer. I touched the rock beneath, a record of the time in Tevinter perhaps. I looked up at the chained figures, ‘ _We are the Dalish, the keepers of the lost lore, the walkers of the lonely path, we are the last elvhen and never again shall we submit’._ I swore the oath under my breath, before pushing myself away from the image.

 

A little way away from the campsite, I could see sprawling battlements. A wooden structure emerging from the rock. It was complete with raised stakes and monstrous trebuchets. I wonder what they could possibly be aimed at, as currently they were aimed at more scattered ruins in the hills. I spotted a man pacing back and forth on a bridge towards the entrance. I exchanged a glance with Cassandra who nodded, before approaching. I pulled my red hood back and strode forward.

The man dressed in brilliant bronze and blue Orlesian armour saw me, his eyes raked over my _vallaslin_ and he shooed at me.

I tilted my head confused and took a couple steps closer.

‘Ficher le camp!’ he called in a sharp voice, made a rather rude _Shem_ gesture and pointed towards the hills. 

I blinked at him, my Orlesian was sadly lacking, despite the crash course Josephine had put me through. _A camp of some kind maybe?_ I couldn’t help looking the direction he had indicated. I didn’t have time to worry about it at the man had noticed my companions.

‘Madam de Fey! What are you doing in this Maker forgotten place?’ He shouted, switching to the trade tongue and walking straight past me.

Vivienne stepped forward, her eyes narrowed ‘Corporal,’ she acknowledged with the barest level of interest.

He took his helmet off focused entirely on her, ‘praise the Maker you’re here, the undead have taken the ramparts.’ He waved a hand behind him.

Vivienne simply examined her nailbeds. But I followed his gesture and spotted a twisted skeletal figure stepping across one of the raised platforms. The sight of it made my skin crawl. It was dragging a sword behind it, which scrapped mockingly along the ground. I took my bow off my shoulder and fired an arrow at it. The arrow lodged squarely into its neck. And it didn’t even flinch, just continued its undead patrol. I turned back, wide eyed, to my companions. Cassandra gritted her teeth and readied her sword. While Vivienne  held her arm out, holding Cassandra back.

‘And why should we help, Corporal?’ She gave him a devastating look, which caused him to wither for a moment before he regained whatever courage he had.

‘Madam?’ He asked quietly.

She tilted her head to me, ‘you have insulted the Inquisitor. So why should the Inquisition help you?’

The poor man stared at me, taking in the Dalish-ness of my appearance. He noted the cut out patched at my knees and elbows, and once again made a note of the lines across my face. He blinked in confusion and turned to look at each member of the group, splotchy red marks crawled up his neck. ‘You are the Inquisition.’ He said eventually, half a question, half a statement.  

Vivienne gave him a winning smile, while Dorian winked.

The Corporal tore at a little bronze badge on his chest, ‘No, I am too old,’ he blustered.

‘Going to join the Freeman?’ I asked quickly, cutting off whatever tirade he was about to go on.

He turned to me, his mouth curled up into a snarl and gave me a glare so dark and I almost took a step back. ‘Andraste’s tits.’ He cursed, extracting a grunt of disproval from Cassandra. ‘The Herald of Andraste is a, is a,’ he waved a hand at me.

I gave him my best mock curtsy.

His hand fell limply to his side and he swallowed whatever he was going to say. He stubbornly repined the badge to his chest. He saluted to me and stamped a foot, causing the wooden bridge he was stood on to shake a little. ‘Corporal Rosselin, your Worship.’ His eyes flicked darkly to Vivienne, ‘at your service.’ He licked at his lip, ‘I hear we have you to thank for the resolution of the war.’

‘Yes,’ I spoke quietly.

He sighed, ‘the war was bloody, and the dead are restless, we just want to go home.’

I bit back the comment about the _shem_ taking our home, it was surely bloodier? But I told myself it wasn’t the time. Instead I looked at the ramparts, then back to the group. ‘Dorian, any ideas?’

The necromancer smiled for the first time in days, and he absent mindedly twiddled his staff between his hands. ‘And would there be a pit of the fallen anywhere in that mess?’ He queried to Rosselin.

The Corporal’s mouth dropped a little. ‘How did you know?’

Dorian rolled his eyes and pulled an unimpressed face to the Corporal. ‘Show me.’ He commanded.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translations 
> 
> Dépaysement - an emotion somewhere between homesickness and wanderlust, feeling like home in a place that you have never been before.
> 
> Ficher le camp - clear off/ shoo. 
> 
> Edited - 24/06/19


	60. Exalté

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lavellan discovers that there is a Dalish clan nearby. So she goes off to investigate.

I stood as the pit burned. Flames licked upwards as though it was simply a campfire and dead were mundane firewood. Though, Dorian looked rather excited as the fire popped, the magic that I could just about sense in the area was dispersing. Sensing magic was like seeing something from the corner of your eye, if you looked for it directly it would remain stubbornly unseen. The Corporal rubbed his hands together, happy that the problem had been dealt with, I had not noted how raggedly tired he looked. Dark circles under his eyes and his armour had taken quite a few hits. He had a scrape down the back of his right arm as he’d gotten a little too close to one of the undead during the fight.

 

‘Corporal?’ I leant over to him, ‘what did you mean earlier about a camp?’

He gave me a look, and shifted a little uncomfortably, ‘There is a Dalish camp, your Worship,’ he points West, ‘beyond those hills.’

I glanced around at companions, who all look varying shades of unhappy with the idea. I was sure I was beaming, I had a lightness in my chest that I had not felt for a long time. I wiped my hands down on my trousers and set off without consultation towards the hills. _Dread wolf himself couldn’t stop me_. As I made my way back through the ramparts, I pulled arrows out of the fallen, replenishing my quiver.

I was almost out of the ramparts before I realised that they were following me, as I caught little pieces of a whispered debate between Cassandra and Dorian about whether or not the diversion is strictly necessary. Dorian seemed to be arguing for the diversion while Cassandra was firmly against it. I ignored them all and made my way up a worn dirt track, I was almost giddy at the idea of seeing a clan again, _any clan_. I can picture the red sails flapping in the breeze and the thick heady smell of good stew.

The track lead through a little grove, strewn with ruins and ancient trees. I would have to come back to investigate at some point, but i didn’t want to stop. I passed a small herd of halla delicately nibbling at the grass and I felt more at home than I had since I left my clan. In the centre of the grove was a great ancient tree, probably older than all of my companions combined and I ran my fingers across the tree as I past, grounding myself, _I am here. I will be safe soon._

I saw two ancient statues of elvhen archers, and I nodded to them as I passed, their ancient bows guiding me onwards. Soon I find myself before two great owls flanking an archway, _Andruil’s messages_ pointing the way. I raised my arms to the sky before them, ignoring that my companions probably through I’d gone mad. It was all I could do not to skip. _My people, my people._ I repeated over and over in my head. _Marked and mine._

 

When I glimpsed the flash of red peeking through the trees, I stopped in my tracks. I turned to the disgruntled group following me, ‘I should probably,’ I paused, Cassandra would not like it. ‘Wait here?’

Cassandra ground her teeth. ‘Inquisitor,’ she began, and I held up a hand for her to stop.

‘I know, but I will be safe. There is no safer place in Thedas for me than with,’ I gave Solas a pointed look, ‘my people.’

He folded his arms across his chest in response but didn’t try to correct me.

‘Just stay back, I don’t want to spook anyone.’ I insisted and jumped down half a step into the river and strode purposely towards the camp.

It was beautiful, I felt my heart rise to my throat, they had camped by a hillside with a magnificent Ghilan’nain statue resting upon it. The three _aravels_ were clustered around, giving the impression of a boundary, and then I saw the Keeper. His robes and a flash of brilliant white hair gave him away.

I raised my arm and called to him, ‘ _Aneth ara_ , Keeper!’ I greeted.

The man dusted off his hands. ‘ _Aneth ara da’len_.’ He answered kindly.

At nearly thirty-two summers, I wasn’t entirely sure it was proper to call me a little one anymore, but his wizened features placed him as a man of far greater years so I took no offence. I blinked, his features were very familiar, but I couldn’t quite place him. I was almost sure I knew those eyes.

I took his hands, and we placed them between our foreheads, through our hands we connected _vallaslin._ ‘Hunter Lavellan.’ I said as I pulled from his greeting.

‘You are far from home Hunter.’ He smiled.

‘I am.’ I laughed.

‘Lavellan?’ He queried, wrapping a hand tightly around his stave. A pale pink woven cord hung on his wrist, the colour faded, a bracelet that once would have been red, ‘how is Keeper Dirthanna?’

He called her by her personal name, and the pieces clicked into place. _So obvious, that was why I recognised his_   _features_. They were a light skinned version of Sil’s. I remembered that Dirthanna had found a lover at the _Arlathvhen._   _Sweet Sylaise! Thank you! Not just any clan, I'd walked right into my uncle_. And I had walked this path to bring him terrible news. ‘ _Ir abelas_ ,’ I breathed in rush, ‘she is on the road to Falon’Din.’

He raised his head to the sky and took an unshaky breath, ‘I had hoped to see her again this summer.’ He twisted his handed together, his bright eyes clouded for a moment. He twisted the woven bracelet off with a deep sigh, and he looked up the sky. ‘Who is Keeper Lavellan now?’ He asked without looking at me.

‘Her twin, Deshanna.’

He nodded, and rubbed a hand across his face. I couldn't tell if it was a prayer of if he simply didn't want me to see the tears. We stood in an awkward silence for a long moment. Then he tilted his head to me, a loose braid of white hair came undone spilling the offended strands across his neck. He reached out, and placed a light hand under my chin, moving my face up towards the light. As though he was examining my face for the secrets that Dirthamen kept. When he had found what he was looking for, he gave me a tight smile, and his eyes crinkled. ‘You are Deshanna’s girl?’ He clarified.

I nodded, and spread my arms a little as though to say, _it's me!_ Digging deeply into the pools of my memory I sourced his name, ‘Keeper Hawen?’

He smiled broadly, ‘that is me.’ But then the smile dropped a little as he noticed my companions behind me. ‘Are they with you?’

‘Yes,’ I said quickly, throwing them a glance. Cassandra had been sneaking closer, pursued by Solas. I buried my snarl of annoyance, they were just looking out for me after all. 

He scrutinised them, ‘odd fellows.’ He commented. ‘What are you doing with them _da’len_?’

I laughed a little, and wrapped my hand around my wrist nervously, ‘ah, they’ve taken to calling me inquisitor.’

His face turned cold in an instant, his teeth bared as though I was his deadly enemy. ‘Are you the one they call the Lesser Bride of Marker?

Confusion bubbled up, I reached for a denial. I'd never heard such a title. 

'The Herald of Andraste?’ He snapped impatiently.

I nodded slowly.

Keeper Hawen took a step back from me, he spat at me in elvish, curses and accusations so quickly that I could barely catch anything beyond the combined meaning. _You are not welcome here._

‘Keeper?’ I gasped, wide eyed, unable to process the sudden turn of events. 

He shook his head, ‘I must protect my clan.' And stepped into a defensive stance, _he was going to cast against me._  'Leave.’ He commanded.

I took a step back, going slightly downhill meaning the Keeper was now practically towering over me. His eyes were hard, and he no longer looked a damned thing like Sil. He spat at the ground by my feet.

I stared at the glob on the ground as I felt hands were on my shoulders, ‘Hellana, we should leave, now.’ Solas must had fade shifted to me, I was vaguely aware of the specks of green magic in the air, he was pulling me away.

The Keeper’s eyes widened at the sudden appearance, ‘you,’ he snarled, and then pointed at bony finger at the two of us and spat something in elvish. Curses and warding charms, then the Keeper dissolved into a tirade of abuse of which I only recognised the word ‘Andraste’.

Solas calmly replied, with more words I didn’t understand.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Edited - 24/06/19


	61. Désaccord

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lavellan is trying to deal with the fallout of the disastrous meeting with Keeper Hawen, and Cassandra isn't exactly being supportive.

I was sat against a rock a couple hundred paces away from the camp. I stared out across the wide Enavuris river. It had taken most of an hour for my hands to stop shaking. I lay my head back against the crumbly rock. I found a little pebble and held it tightly into my hands, hoping I could pour all of my disappointment into it. _The gods are laughing at me, what had I done to deserve such misfortune?_ I tossed it as hard as I could into the river, it skimmed twice across the surface before disappearing with a plop. It didn’t make a bit of difference.

Vivienne was pacing by the edge of the water, a habit I noticed she did when she was concerned. She stopped when Cassandra spoke to her, something too quiet for me to hear, but they both looked across to me. I blinked and went back to watching the river.

After a few more moment, Cassandra strode over to me, standing in such a way to block out the sun. ‘Inquisitor, we should leave,’

I looked at her, my covering my eyes from the glare. I knew my face was a stubborn scowl, despite the horrible welcome, I had no intention of leaving this place today. I was going to reason with her, _Herald of Andraste, the reason I am no longer welcome._ I snapped. ‘It’s all your fault.’ I spat, letting my foul mood wash over my words. And I stood, although she was a head and a half taller than me, I had rage enough that she could not intimidate me. 

She blinked at me, her hand automatically going to her sword, ‘but we stayed back,’

I pointed at her, ‘ _You_ named me Herald of Andraste, _you_ didn’t care what it would do to me.’ I hated her and that stupid white eye that stared unblinkingly at me.

‘I hardly-’

I cut her off again, ‘look at my face!’ I shouted, somehow, I had pulled the dagger out of my boot. I waved it towards my own forehead and then towards the clan. ‘My own kin will not look at me.’

Her jaw was tight as she was looking past me, purposely ignoring my outburst.

‘Look. At. My. Face.’ I repeated and Cassandra did, but I saw no recognition in her eyes. I sat down heavily and stabbed the dagger deep into the grass. ‘You have no idea what you’ve done.’ I snarled, not looking at her. I rubbed at the lines under my eyes, furious and ashamed. ‘I do not want to be your damned Herald, your damned puppet.’ I picked the knife out of the grass and spun it between my fingers, shaking my head as I did so.

‘I did tell you that home would change while you were gone.’ She added with a slightly smugness.  

‘Thank you so much for your forewarning.’ I said, the sarcasm dripping from my voice. ‘I shall make sure I make offerings in your honour, _great wise prophet_.’

‘So many gods,’ Cassandra commented conversationally, ‘and no room for one more.’

I stared at her dumbfounded for a moment, _how could she be so completely oblivious_. ‘That bridge was burned a long time ago.’ I snapped. 'Here in fact.'

She scoffed at me, and I saw red. I tightened my hand around my dagger, I lunged at her and the next thing I knew I had Cassandra’s sword hilt striking down hard on my left shoulder and the whole arm felt numb. I remembered her telling me to keep my arm raised. She tried to disarm me but missed.

I was ready to strike at her again when I was pulled off the ground, being dragged away legs kicking in the air, by Dorian. ‘Hey, hey. It’s okay, Hellana, Cassandra _is_ on our side.’

Vivienne standing between us, cold crackling at her fingertips to calm Cassandra into a cease fire. ‘Stand down Seeker,’ She hissed.

A moment later Dorian dumped me on the ground unceremoniously, and snatched my dagger from me, raising it above my head. ‘You can have it back when you calm down.’ He replied to my grabbing hand, fruitlessly trying to take it back.

I backed away, and clutched at my left shoulder, it was darkening with a fine purple bruise. My fingertips were tingling as the sensations returned. I breathed deeply, wondering how to explain to Dorian that I needed the knife back.

And then I noticed then that Solas was chuckling to himself. I rounded on him, _lucky for him, Dorian had my knife._ Perched against an outcrop with his arms crossed over his chest. His eyes flicked to me, but he didn’t stop laughing. ‘Tell me what the Keeper said,’ I demanded.

He glanced away, and licked his lip, ‘it was not worthy, not worth repeating.’

‘Do _not_ mess with me.’ I snapped.

He bowed a head, almost mockingly, ‘the Keeper strongly implied that you had performed _certain favours_ for the Maker.’

I closed my eyes, grounded my self and looked at Solas again, ‘certain favours.’

He performed a hand gesture that I was sure that he had stolen from Sera. Somewhere behind me Dorian snorted. I put my hand across my mouth in shock. Letting the words sink in, I felt sick to my stomach, and the uncomfortable blush rose up across my cheeks. ‘And what did you say?’ I asked through clenched teeth.

He shrugged with a smirk, ‘that he wouldn’t believe such a thing if he’d ever heard you sing.’

A hysterical laugh broke free from my lips, I shook my head. ‘Grand.’ I barely recognised my voice, it cracked and crumbled. I felt the rush of anger ebb away and I was tired. Tried to the bones and everything felt heavy. I sat down, ‘thank you, for what it's worth,’ I said a little stiffly, ‘for getting me out of here.’

He smirked again, ‘typical Dalish hospitality.’

I glared, but the fight had gone out of me. I lay back on the ground, tracing patterns on the wispy clouds above. ‘This day could not get any worse.’ I muttered darkly beneath my breath. ‘Try me.’ I added, wishing I could wave my knife as well. It was probably unwise to openly challenge the Creators so, but my mood was dark enough that I did not care. I sat up, 'well stay her for the night.' I announced as I didn't have the energy to move. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translation 
> 
> Désaccord - disagreement
> 
> Edited - 24/06/19


	62. Amende

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lavellan and Cassandra finally have time to sit down for that heart to heart, and because they can't keep fighting, right?

‘Are you sure this is wise, my dear?’ Vivienne had asked, after I’d begun setting up camp along the river bank.

I nodded. My jaw was tight, and I couldn’t quite meet her eye and she noticed.

‘You’re a mess, let me look at you.’ She said in a voice that allowed no disagreement.

‘I am fine.’ I replied, trying to sound reassuring.

Her eyes grazed over my face and glanced to the protective way I held my bruised arm, ‘you’re angry.’ She said finally. ‘Good, Anger can save you when everything else is gone.’

I blinked and then smiled, pleasantly surprised by her words, ‘I thought you would tell me to stop starting fights?’

She laughed tilting her head back so that the horns of her headdress pointed backwards, ‘get revenge or make amends.’ And she nodded pointedly towards Cassandra. Who was sat by the bank, with her back to the group, ignoring us as best as she could. ‘My darling, if people believe they can cross you, they will.’

I shocked Vivienne by wrapped my arms around her waist, pulling her into a tight hug. I knew she was on side, and I adored her for it. ‘Thank you, Viv.’

She was stood frozen stiff and then carefully patted my on the head, telling me to let her go.

When I pulled back, she shook her head disapprovingly at me. Although her eyes crinkled with a smile. ‘I think that it is Enchanter Vivienne, Court Mage to the Empire of Orlais, or Madame de Fer to you.’

I laughed, gave her a very serious nod, ‘of course, my apologies, it shall not happen again,’ then a grin split across myself, ‘Viv.’

She swatted me lightly with the back of her hand, gave me a tut and left me to help setting up camp.

 

The sun had set and I had run out of excuses. I left the little group sat around the campfire, and I made my way over to Cassandra, I was unarmed and a little unsure. She turned as I approached, ‘ah, here comes the hero of our age, once lowly prisoner and now, pfff,’ she waved a dark bottle vaguely in my direction.

‘You’re drinking?’ I asked surprised, I’d never seen her drink. I shivered a little, the wind was whipping across the river and it seemed to tear through my clothing to chill me to the core.

‘Yes, what else would you have me do?’ She snapped, the slightest slur in her voice gave away that she had been drinking for a long time.

I slumped on the ground next to here and snatched the bottle from her, it was mostly empty. She snarled at me and tried to wrestle it back. ‘I would have you share.’ I retorted, which stopped her in her tracks, she looked down the barest hint of guilt in her expression. I took a deep swig from the bottle and I gave her a look, the wine was new, sweet and terrible. I drank it anyway. I handed her bottle back.

She took it quickly, cradled it in her arms, and then sighed. ‘So, you do not believe you are the Herald of Andraste.’ It wasn’t a question, but rather a resigned admission.

‘I know I am not, I cannot be.’ I answered simply, pulling my leg up and wrapping my arms around them. _How could I be?_ I opened my mouth, to tell her what the Keeper had told Solas, and yet I didn’t say anything. However much the accusation has hurt me, I suspected she would take it badly. I realised that I did not want to hurt her, I just didn’t want to be hurt by her anymore. _Maybe that was what Vivienne was getting at?_

Cassandra glanced at me, ‘I raised you up, even exalted you as,’

‘Stop,’ I cut across her, ‘you cannot call me exalted.’

She gave me a confused glance, ‘why?’

I almost felt like just point at my face again. But I’d already learned that wasn’t an effective way of putting across my point to this woman. ‘I’m Dalish, exaltation is not a good thing, it’s a threat.’ I spread my arms, _exalted plains,_ as though to prove my point.

‘But, that is ancient history.’ She took the bottle back, but the bottle was paused beneath her lip. She was genuinely curious.

‘Ancient history is kinda the point.’ I stretched out and look at her pointedly.

Cassandra blinked at me, ‘but you could,’ she paused, and her eyebrows knitted together, she stared out across the fast flowing waters. I could see her mind working and her mouth moved with whatever ideas she was considering. I said nothing. Eventually she signed as she seemed to have failed at coming up with any viable strategies, ‘ahh, I see.’ She again sighed more deeply this time and her shoulders slumped forward, ‘forgive me.’

I nodded, acknowledging her words. ‘I am also sorry, I was upset, and I shouldn’t have tried to, um,’ I twisted my hands together, ‘stab you.’ I whispered.

‘You were trying to stab me?’ She puts the bottle down firmly on the ground and shrugged, ‘We have fought, if you were trying to stab me you wouldn’t have been so easy to disarm.’’

I laughed, because I couldn’t help it. Cassandra gave me a rueful look. She was right, I knew she was a better hand to hand fighter than me and I had engaged anyway, I rubbed my shoulder which still ached. _Creators let her be right._ ‘Grand.’ I said, and lay back on the cool grass, I shifted uncomfortably as the dew began to soak into my tunic. ‘I’m better with my bow.’ I muttered at the open sky.

‘Yes, you are.’ She gave me a weary look, ‘that ritual of yours at Haven seems to have worked.’

I gave her a look, _did she really think dedicating a bow made me a better archer?_ I gave myself a secret smile as I chose a different question to mirror her earlier words, ‘would you consider adopting Andruil?’

She pulled a face, ‘the thought is abhorrent.’ She admitted.

The grass was cold and damp, I sat up and then stood. I clapped her on the shoulder, ‘you’re starting to get it.’

‘Ahh,’ I heard her acknowledge as I turned back to the fire.

‘Come join us,’ I invited, but she shrugged. So, I left her alone with her dregs of sweet wine. And walked back towards the little camp we’d established I glanced at Vivienne, I hope that counted as making amends.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translations
> 
> Amende - Amends 
> 
> Edited 24/06/19


	63. Chasseurs

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hellana wakes up early and find the Plains are not as devoid of friends as she believed the night before.

The next morning when I awoke, it was early. The barest hint of pink had touched the dawn. I crept out of my tent, and I found myself alone. The wind was still strong, and my hair whipped around my face. I pulled my hood down, tucking my hair in to keep it out of my eyes. I crouched by the embers of the fire and roused it, muttering half-awake prayers under my breath as I did.

As the fire caught, I stood and glanced around the Plains, the land had a scared, jagged quality to it, as though a titan had stabbed at the ground. I shuddered at the thought and returned my attentions to the fire. As quietly as I could I found out Vivienne’s little travel kettle from the pack near her bag and set off towards that river to fill it with water.

 

The kettle hissed at me and I blinked awake. My back was against a crumbly outcrop and I must have dozed off. I sat up and found a halla in front of me. He was an odd shade for a halla, not the pure white I expected, but there a more off-yellow colour.

‘ _Aneth ara_ ,’ I said to the sweet creature, and I held out my hand.

The halla stepped forward to me and nudged his head against my offered hand, light brown twisted horns ripples behind him like gnarled branches with every move. I smiled, thinking of the story where Andruil had commanded Ghilan’nain to destroy her creations in return for divinity, I could see why Ghilan’nain had been unable to hurt these graceful beasts. I reached over carefully to my pack and pulled out something for him to eat, and handful of dried berries and oaks. I lay it on the ground before the halla, who looked a little unimpressed at the merger offering. Then he seemed to give me a pointed look at my left hand, nudging the mark on my hand with his cold nose. He then turned around and appeared to present his back leg. Poor thing must have stumbled through a berry bush as his leg was covered in twisting purple pattern.

I scratched the halla on the top of his head, between his horns. He pulled away with a snort and began pawing at the dirt.

I poured myself a little cup of tea and looked up to see two Dalish hunters standing nervously, a respectful distance from camp. I almost dropped the tea but kept a hold of it and pushed back my hood.

‘ _Aneth ara_!’ I called and I noticed they visibly relaxed. One of them elbowed the other and they approached.

‘ _Ghilan’nain_ _enansal_ ,’ one of the elves said, an older man with dark grey hair and the lines of Falon’Din across his face. He looked visibly relieved to see me. ‘Thought you were _shem.’_

I gave him a reproachful look, but it was playful, ‘some of my companions are.’ I gestured at the tents.

The one who had spoken was elbowed again by a younger man, and he gave me a nod, ‘Ithiren,’ he stated a little coldly.

‘Hellana,’ I replied, matching his unusual introduction without title or clan.

The elbower grinned, ‘Loranil,’ he added the twisting lines of Ghilan’nain above his face rose as his face broke into a broad grin. ‘We’ve been tracking the golden halla for six days.’

I turned back to the little halla still scratching in the dirt. It looked yellow to me, not golden, but I smiled away. _Let them have hope._ ‘Your clan is in great distress then?’ The words were supposed to be light, but the two elves exchanged a worried look.

After a moment, Loranil shrugged noncommittally.

I cleared my throat, _fool_ , I chastised myself, _and if their clan were in distress, they wouldn’t talk about it to me about it. ‘_ Tea?’ I asked, to cover the awkwardness.

‘We should not-‘

‘Please-‘

They two looked at each other and Loranil begged Ithiren with large eyes. I almost laughed, I suspected Ithiren was teaching Loranil the Way of the Hunter, and I guessed Loranil was a bit of a wayward student. I carefully placed my own cup down, making sure the halla wouldn’t accidentally kick it over.

As I worked, I caught glimpses of a whispered conversation. Ithiren was worried about something, but Loranil brushed his concerns off.

‘What are you doing out here?’ Ithiren asked as I handed him a cup.

‘Ahh,’ I glanced up at the open sky, _gods above watch over me._ ‘I am here with the inquisition,’ I began tentatively.

Loranil practically jumped up and down with excitement. ‘How can I join?’ He blurted.

Ithiren grabbed his arm, spinning him to look at the older elf. ‘Keeper Hawen would never allow it.’

‘ _Ir abelas,’_ I said quickly, ‘I did not realise you were under the care of Keeper Hawen,’ I glanced in the direction of his camp. ‘He banished me from his camp yesterday. I would not have you getting in trouble on my account.’

Loranil blinked and then laughed so loudly that I thought he would wake my companions. ‘That’s hart-shit, miserable old man, forbids anything and everything. He's lost his mind.'

Ithiren smacked his arm with the back of his hand, and Loranil shut his mouth with a gulp. Ithiren glanced up the sky, and then lent over to me so close that his ear brushed against my cheek, his voice no louder than a whisper, ‘Hawen has the dread.’

Ice trickled into my bones. I opened my mouth, wordlessly. I nodded, dumbly. My feet felt unsteady, I dropped my tea onto the ground. The hot liquid soaking into the ground leaving only tendrils of steam to mark the place.

Ithiren swore under his breath and helped me sit down, ‘you’ve seen it before,’ he said simply.

‘Yes.’  _Yes I had._

Keeper Dirthanna had suffered with the dread-sickness for the last four months of her keepership, her mind warped, jumping at shadows that were not there. Forever glancing in fear for an advisory that did not have the decency to appear. In a moment of lucidity, she had begged Deshanna to help her. And a week later we planted a tree for Dirthanna and her sister took her place.

I glanced back to the camp, my hand over my mouth, _it was an explanation._ Heartlessly, I clung to that, as a man overboard clings to driftwood. _Please, let me have not lost the trust of the Dalish._ My driftwood was the cruel hope that I had simply come afoul of a dread-sick man.

The ‘golden halla’ snorted again and pushed at my hand with his cold nose. I pulled away, and felt a little uneasy, he would become an offering to Ghilan’nain. He would be the perfect offering, but it would be a pointless sacrifice. I knew in my soul that the Lady of Beasts didn’t have the power to cure their Keeper. I doubted that the Mistress of Halla even knew what the dread-sickness was. It was so terrible that the clans did not speak about it under the open sky, how could she know what it was?

‘Inquisitor!’ Cassandra called, a slight panic to her voice, she had been woken. She was armoured and striding towards us her hand on her hilt. I could only imagine her concern at seeing two unfamiliar people standing over me.

‘Stand down,’ I whispered quickly. And she froze.

The two elves exchanged a glance. Loranil’s grin got impossibly wide, and I imagined he had never seen an elf give a commend to a human and they actually obey. ‘Inquisitor?’ he queried me.

‘In the flesh.’ I replied.

He raised his hands to the sky in praise, ‘the inquisitor’s one of us!’

 _One of us._ I felt my heart swell at his words, but the moment was over as Cassandra appeared by Loranil’s shoulder. ‘Inquisitor? Have you been hurt?’

I shook my head, ‘just shaken.’

Ithiren held his hand to me, offering to help me up. I took it gratefully. I pulled my hands through my hair, ‘nothing to worry about Cassandra.’

Cassandra relaxed a little, but now she knew I was physically safe, she returned to her stony self. She backed away a little, to give us privacy but not far enough to let us think we were unwatched.

Cassandra gave me a look which said, _I don’t trust them._ As Ithiren glanced behind him, jaw tight as though to say, _I don’t trust her._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translations
> 
> Chasseurs - Hunters
> 
> Edited 24/06/19


	64. Violet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Dalish give Lavellan a task, and Dorian and Lavellen finally get a chance to have a catch up after the Winter Palace.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tiny mention of past Cullen/Dorian.  
> And Ithiren's vallaslin are actually blue, but that didn't fit for purple plot purposes :d

‘So tell me, why is your clan here, in this place?’ I asked to the two elves that had taken seats on the opposite side of the little fire.

Ithiren rubbed his hands together and pushed them towards the fire as though to warm them, as though the sun had not already burnt off the chill of the morning. ‘ _Var Bellanaris.’_

I looked up, my heart beating face in my chest, ‘it is so close?’ I gasped. He had named one of the ancestral Dalish burial grounds, I had known that one was _somewhere_ in the Dales, but I couldn’t have guessed that it would be so close. I couldn’t stop myself from craning my neck around, fruitlessly attempting to spot it.

Loranil laughed slight, and pointed upriver, ‘four hundred paces that way.’

A broad smile crossed my face, Sil would be very jealous indeed. ‘I had no idea.’

Loranil gave Ithiren a look, almost as though asking permission. Ithiren gave the barely nod and Loranil draws closer to me, his words quiet. ‘Something is odd there, a great green tear in the air, it’s leaking demons.’

I sighed but nodded and held up my left hand. ‘They’re called rifts, I can fix it.’ I gave them a smile, ‘the only advantage.’ I muttered darkly to myself.

‘Please, protect the _Var Bellanaris._ Clan Hawen would be deeply indebted to you and the inquisition’. Ithiren placed his fingertips to his _vallaslin_ , the lines of Falon’Din are pale and periwinkle against his skin.

‘Of course,’ I said quickly, but then looked away from him. I was shocked at the gesture, _I was unworthy of such a gesture._

I didn’t have a moment to say anymore as Dorian approached, sat down at the campfire without glancing up, he yawned, stretched and then poured himself a cup of tea. Looked up at the two Dalish men who were watching with identical confused expressions. _‘Kaffas_ ,’ He hissed, sloshing tea on himself. I giggled, and his head snapped towards me. ‘Friends of yours?’ He asked resigned.

I glanced down at the new damp patch on the ground, the way this morning was going we would water the whole of the Dales with our spilt tea. ‘This is Ithiren and Loranil from clan Hawen, and this is Dorian from,’ I paused for a second too long, ‘Minrathous.’

Ithiren racked his eyes across Dorian and gave me an icy look. I mouthed, ‘ _he’s harmless_ ,’ with a calming hand gesture which I made sure that Dorian wouldn’t see.

I turned to the Tevinter, ‘you're up early.’

‘It happens occasionally.’

I snorted, _and today would have to be the day._

‘We’d better be getting back,’ Ithiren said firmly, and stood.

I couldn’t help a glance at Dorian, I was convinced they were leaving before they become outnumbered by _shem_.

‘So, four hundred paces that direction?’ I quickly clarified.

Loranil traced a rough map in the dirt, showing me where we were and how to get there. As he was going so Ithiren moved over to the halla.

The halla bleated in panic and darted away from him. I turned, the halla was shaking its head as though trying to stab the white-haired elf with his twisted horns.

Ithiren lunged towards it and the halla spring under his arms and over to me, barrelling Loranil over in the process. Which resulted in a game of chase around the campfire. Until Ithiren eventually caught the creature by the legs and slung it, still wriggling, over his shoulder. I noticed the twisted marks along the halla’s back leg again, I was no longer sure that I was some kind of berry stain, instead it had the look of a lavender scar. It stirred a memory, but then it was lost and I was left trying to grab tendrils of thought.

Dorian has been cackling throughout the antics, offering no more than his laugh as assistance. With the halla strung over his shoulders, Ithiren only nodded to me, but Loranil took me by the hands and we touch our foreheads to each side of the knotted fists. ‘Dareth shiral, Hellana,’ he said. Pulled back and grinned, ‘we’ll be seeing you soon?’ He asked.

I smiled, ‘hopefully, dareth shiral.’

Dorian gave a half wave, which Ithiren ignores, but the corner of Loranil’s mouth twitched up and he nodded to the Tevinter.

 

‘You know, that was like a scene from Tevene theatre?’ Dorian said amused when the Dalish men had disappeared from view.

‘I hate the theatre.’ I replied, distracted.

‘How would you know, you’ve never been.’ He snapped pointedly.

I shook my head, and looked at Dorian, he didn’t look overly well rested. For a start his jacket was buttoned up wrong, which I was half convinced from the way he usually carried on was a kind of sin in Tevinter. Between him and Vivienne, there must be some deity of impractical fashion to which they both have homage. I smirked at the thought.

‘Do tell, Hellana,’ then he huffed, ‘ _do tell_. I’ve had to get all my gossip from Vivienne lately.’

 _Gossip?_ I crossed my arms, ‘I’ve hardly been keeping anything from you, you’ve been in a bad mood for days.’

Dorian snorted as if he didn’t believe a word of it. But he looked down at his hands, tiny purple sparks jumped between his forefingers. He flicked his fingers, sending the sparks into the fire, where they crackled and popped across the firewood.

‘Do tell,’ I say as I raised an eyebrow.

He draws back his teeth as though he has a bad taste in his mouth, ‘did you know our dear Commander has a thing for mages?’

I coughed, ‘nothing wrong with that,’ my voice tight and a hint too defensive.

Dorian narrows his eyes at me, but continues, ‘well Rutherford doesn’t mind a drunken fumble in the dark, but he prefers,’ he draws his hand down, creating an curved line in the air, _a female form, ‘_ other things, for the daylight.’ He sucked at his bottom lip, a disappointed frown replacing his expression. He muttered something about ‘the south’ that I didn’t quite catch.

‘ _Ir abelas_ ,’ I said without realising it wasn’t in Trade, the topic is a little too close to home and I shifted uncomfortably.

He laughed bitterly, ‘more Dalish curses?’

I looked up and blinked, ‘it means, I’m sorry.’

He looked down and then met my eyes and smiled. ‘As am I.’ We say nothing for a long moment, ‘and you?’

‘And me?’ I repeated back to Dorian.

He waggled his eyebrows at me, ‘pray tell, that you had a better evening that me?’

I put my hand to my throat, ‘it was,’ I looked into the fire and swallowed hard. ‘Nothing.’ I pulled the facade I’d been wearing for the last two days down and give him my best impression of a careless smile.

He squinted at me, but thankfully did not question me further. And I tried not to think about the fading mauve marks on my hips, and everything it should have meant.


	65. Torche

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> On the way to Var Bellanaris, the gang accidentally go the wrong way, leading to a case of mistaken identity.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hellana, is a variation of the name Helen which means torch, light, bright in Greek.

By mid-morning the camp had been packed away, water skins refilled, and we were on our way to _Var Bellanaris_. It was a warm day, but a cloak of mist hung in the air, the wispy white that even the hottest sun could not burn away.

I found myself grateful for Solas’ cartography skills, as he had dutifully copied across the map which Loranil had sketched into the dirt. Although my patience was fraying as he was currently telling Cassandra an extremely long-winded account of the Dales. She was listening in rapt interest, asking the right questions in all of the right places. I didn’t know how he had cobbled together the story, but there were so many details that he couldn’t possibly know and didn’t make any sense. I suspected he was embellishing the tale and I rolled my eyes at each new fanciful twist. When he got to the start of the Exalted March, Cassandra gave me a guilty side glance. I kept my eyes down and I pretended I didn’t notice her.

Dorian elbowed me lightly, and when I glanced over he gave me a bored look and directed a yawn in Solas’ direction.

I smiled, biting my lower lip.

Then he clapped his fingers to his thumb, mimicking a mouth that will not stop talking.

I badly stifled my laugh, which earned me a dirty look from Cassandra, which meant I didn’t see the little stream that I walked straight into. ‘Piss,’ I swore, employing Sera’s favourite curse. I glanced around, I recognised as the stream as one we had crossed to get to Hawen’s camp. ‘we’re going the wrong way.’

Solas handed over the map to me without a word. I twisted the map around in my hands to orientated it. I pointed to our right, ‘it is that way.’ I snapped as I stepped out of the steam, a trickle of cold water drained out of my boot as I did so. I sighed, now I need new boots.

Setting out on our new course, Solas continued up his account of the history of the Dales. I hung back for the moment, so I didn’t have to hear it, but the words drifted down to me anyway, ‘the Emerald Knights --- romantic heroes --- ruthless butchers.’

I rolled my eyes and pulled the map out again to double check we were going the correct direction.

‘--- called the Knight’s Guardians --- like up there.’

I glanced up at Solas’ words and dropped the map, it fluttered to the ground with all the grace of a butterfly landing. ‘Hush,’ I hissed at him, stepping forward to make sure that he understood me. In front of us, was a waterfall the height of a man, and atop it was a lounging statue of a wolf. The water from the stream was diverted to flow continually over the feet of the wolf.

Solas looked at me, eyebrow raised.

‘That isn’t a Knight’s Guardian.’ I said distainfully. _How could he make such an obvious mistake?_ My eyes racking over the statue. I glanced around wondering if there was a way to get close and examine it closer.  

‘What makes you say that?’ A laughing scorn was clear in Solas’ voice.

I held my hand out, ‘look at him,’ I turned to the statue, faint smile spreading on my face, ‘the water washing over him, continually purifying, continually appeasing, what better placement for a fickle god.’  

Solas’ arms crossed in front of his chest, and I realised my mistake.

I turned back to the statue of Fen’Heral, ‘ _ir abelas_ ,’ I whispered to the god, and closed my eyes and rubbed at the lines against my cheeks. _Don’t insult the gods to their faces_. ‘What I mean to say,’ I said, turning back to Solas, ‘it that it is an honour wasted on a Knight’s Guardian.’

‘And if the steam simply changed course?’ He frowned at me.

I looked back to the statue, the stone angles were sharp and perfect as the day he’d had been carved, ‘there is no wear on the statue.’ I explained. ‘The water should have eroded the stone, and it has not. Which means,’ I looked back into the wolf’s face, ‘he was designed to be in the water.’ I snatched the map up from the ground and folded it into my pocket. ‘He isn’t just any wolf.’

Solas laughed at me, and I felt a blush raise in my cheeks. I spun around to him, ‘do you think I wouldn’t recognise my own god standing in front of me?’ I spat, left hand pointing at the statue atop the waterfall.

His eyes racked over me, his gaze traced a line down my arm and paused for a heartbeat on the pulsing green mark. Then he narrowed his eyes, the smile dropped away from his face and he looked at me. ‘No, I do not believe you would.’

I opened my mouth to spit some hurtful words or curse at him.

‘It isn’t your fault, the Dalish only remember fragments of fragments.’ His voice was devoid of contempt, instead it was quiet, almost sad. I didn’t have a moment to react before he turned away from me. Leaving me to bite down on the venomous words that had filled my mouth. I swallowed the insults. And instead glared daggers into his back.

‘Fine,’ I said after a long moment, noticing that Dorian was watching intently perched on a rock, eating a handful of nuts. ‘there is only one way to know for certain.’ I smiled at Dorian, ‘if I’m right, there is will be a shrine nearby.’

He shrugged but tilted his head to me, ‘if you say so.’ He stood and dusted the crumbs of his hands.

 

We were barely up the hill to the side of the waterfall when I spotted two large archer statues, pointing to an intricately carved door, _a shrine._ I stuck my tongue out at Solas, who ignored me. I smirked at Dorian triumphantly, who raised his hands to me, as though he wanted no part of our little spat.

I strode forward, the excitement bubbling up under my skin. Leading the group, I descended down the worn-smooth stone slope. The entrance was painted with stark flaking murals and I kept my hands close to ensure that I didn’t accidentally touch them. _It would be a cruel fate, to have survived the ages to be torn down by careless hands._   

I touched the door and glanced back. I shook my head and turned back to the door. _Please open._ It did, the door opened on a small room with a large fire pit in the middle. I stepped into the gloom, and glanced around the tight stone walls, it was almost claustrophobic. There was a sort of chimney in the ceiling to allow the smoke to escape. To the left of the door there was a more traditional altar than our clan used. 'Sylaise,' I whispered. 

‘We do not have time to stop,’ Cassandra said. I glanced at her, she was scowling again.

‘It will not take long,’ I responded quickly, ‘I was named for Sylaise, I would like to offer my respects.’

Cassandra tapped her foot impatiently twice on the stone floor.

‘How are you named for Sylaise?’ Solas queried.

I felt my shoulders pull back in annoyance, ‘Hellana means _torch_.’

He gave me a look, a mocking smirk pulling at the corners of his mouth ‘no it doesn’t.’

I ground my teeth together and sighed deeply. ‘Yes, it does.’ I snapped sulkily, ‘and I think I’d like to be alone.’

 

I sat back on my heels, and shivered in the damp darkness, wondering if my prayers would be enough.

‘What did you pray for?’

I spun at the sound, of course Solas had ignored my request to be alone. When I stood, he was close, and I had to crane my head back to look at him. I smirked, ‘why should I tell you?’ I tried to point but ended up with my left palm flat against his chest. _Warm and solid and real._ I looked down and blinked at the hand that betrayed me. I pulled back and clutched my hand to myself as though I’d been burnt. _We had been so careful._

His eyes narrowed and he took a step closer, ‘I’m curious. I thought the Dalish did not worship underground.’

‘You’re correct.’

‘So, it must be something important,’ he added.

I nodded, his eyes were intense, lingering on my lower lip. He steps closer still, pushing me back up against the altar. ‘It is important.’ I breathed against his neck.

Solas’ hands were tight on my thighs and a second later I am sat up on the altar, something smashed to my left. I turned to look, but my chin is caught by his slim fingers. His lips are parted and his eyes dark and intense, a stare like that could surely see my bones. ‘You were right,’ he says, ‘about the statue,’ words heavy in the damp air. Sylaise’s fire burns under my skin. For a second, I think he will take me right there on the altar. _What an offering._

I sucked in a breath, and leaned my head into his hand, and I become uncomfortably aware that the other three are probably just outside the door. ‘We should not linger here, _ma lath.’_

He drew back from me, his mouth tight, ‘ _ma lath._ ’ Although his pronunciation was utterly different from mine. The corner of his lip tipped up and he shook his head, like there was a bad taste in his mouth, ‘no, I am unworthy of the title.’ He straightened and left me there on the altar.

I blinked at the sudden change in direction, _Dirthamen untangle that one!_  It had been intended as playful but taken as serious. I pulled my fingers through my hair and sighed, _fickle man_. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translations
> 
> Torche - Torch
> 
> Ma lath - my love (although, Hellana botched the pronunciation so badly that she probably said something offensive). 
> 
> [Hellana's ability to speak elvish directly relates to how much I can be bothered to work out translations, haha]
> 
> Edited - 24/06/19


	66. Contronym

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lavellan thinks she might have stumbled across a lead about the ancient orbs, but it sounds absolutely mad, right?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Strap in everyone, things might get weird for a couple chapters!  
> And a quick thank you to everyone who has been supporting the series so far, love you all <3  
> -Hezjena xx

The warped and twisted face of the skeletal demon appeared before me, its terrible mouth gaped opened in a feral snarl, a short screech whistled over cracked yellow teeth. I jumped back instinctively, aiming and arrow at the back of its throat. As I loosed my bow, a flash of green covered my vision, I knew one of the mages has given me a ward in case I missed my target. The demon fell back to the ground, howling in pain and sunk into the pebbled ground. I rushed forward, left hand in the air.

 _When is a white rabbit not a white rabbit? When it is a sacrifice._ It was always a crap joke, told over and over by the Hunters till it had mostly lost all amusement. But it was what I thought of when I saw the rifts, one thing that was two things, one thing that could be both things at once. The rift that was air and fade at the same time. Only Andruil could decide that a rabbit was hers and not fair game, only the green mark on my hand could separate the tendrils of each realm and put them back in their place. Green light erupted from the anchor on my palm and I expected the usual pain. _It didn’t come._ The rift popped closed. I glanced down at my hand, still waiting for the bone-splitting green numbness. Nothing happened. I scowled at my hand but dropped it. _I wasn’t complaining._

I looked over to see Cassandra sat on the floor, looking completely dazed. Her eye was swollen, and it looked like she’d split her lip. I nodded to Vivienne who went over to access the damaged. Her fingers worked in the air created a ball of ice, which she pressed into Cassandra’s hands.

Cassandra took the frozen orb gratefully.

 _Var Bellanaris_ was a lot smaller than I had expected it to be, and significantly more ruin that I had hoped. It was really little more than a large courtyard with six or so large burial mounds with trees growing in the centre of them. I bit my lip as I considered, the rift had been closed and there really was no reason to stay. I tapped my hand impatiently against my leg as Vivienne helped Cassandra to her feet. She dropped the ball of ice on the ground and I starred for a moment, I was about to pick it up when I stopped myself. _Don’t._ I tore my eyes away and tried to ignore the knot that formed in my stomach.

I looked over to Cassandra, who was testing all of her limbs were unbroken. ‘Are you alright?’ I called.

‘Caught a claw with my face,’ Cassandra admitted ruefully.

I laughed, pointing to the large metal disk resting against her leg, ‘you have a shield.’

She nodded solemnly, but a quick smile ruined the illusion, ‘I will try to remember that, Inquisitor. We should return to camp.’

I nodded, finally happy to oblige her.  

 

‘Huh?’ I looked up after hearing my name to see the twin faces of Dorian and Vivienne looking at me concerned. Cassandra and Solas were nowhere to be seen, _thank the gods._ I didn’t think that I wanted to see either of them at the moment. I hadn’t realising that I’d been stabbing at the ground with a stick. I threw the stick on the fire self-consciously and dusted off my hands. I picked up my wine glass, but it was empty. I didn’t remember drinking it. I looked down, I’d drawn the outline of the thumbprint orb that had haunted my dream so many weeks back. _The Orb of Andruil._ I glanced at my hand, and up at the night sky, _what is your plan Andruil? What am I missing?_

I was brought back to earth as Dorian shook a half empty bottle at me, and I nodded, passing him my glass. ‘You’re very distracted this evening.’ He said, his free hand running across his moustache.

I sighed, sitting forward with my elbows on my knees and my head in my hands, ‘do you ever feel like you’re missing something obvious. It’s like there is something directly in front of me, something I know, a piece of the puzzle, but I just can’t,’ I reached out, grabbing at the empty air.

Dorian exchanged a worried look with Vivienne.

‘My dear, what puzzle?’ Vivienne asked, a plunked eyebrow raised in curiosity.  

I laughed bitterly, and wrung my hands together ‘if I knew, I would say.’

‘I see,’ said Dorian reasonably, glanced at Vivienne again, ‘you’re going quite mad.’

I blinked at him, my eyes going wide. _That made and odd kind of sense._ For a split second, I had perfect clarity, _I had Andruil’s dread?_ Then I realised he was joking and looked around to find the right projectile to throw at him. ‘Not funny.’ _Of course, I didn’t have any dread-sickness._

The two mages laughed, and I glared. I sighed and lay back on the grass, gazing into the inky above. I as my eyes adjusted to the light, I realised I could make out a handful of constellations. I raised my right hand above my head, tracing out the lines that made up the Oak.

‘I wonder what this place used to look like,’ Dorian said in a quiet voice that I was sure was only meant for Vivienne.

She snorted, ‘it used to be beautiful here.’ Her voice was almost wistful, and I almost sat up to ask when Vivienne had visited the Promise.

‘It figures that most of the fighting happened here and not in Orlais.’ Dorian commented before I had a change to interrupt.

Vivienne’s nailed tapped on her cup, ‘the cost of the war is staggering, my darling, I wonder if it will ever be what it was.’

I closed my eyes for a moment, letting Vivienne’s words sink in. Then I opened them again and found the stars that made up Sacrifice. I traced them with the tip of my finger, and then dropped my hand frustrated. I sat up with a bolt. If I could have aimed my bow at the moons and popped them, I would have. _Two moons_. It was rather superfluous. _Two orbs_.

I turned to the two mages, ‘I think I’ve gone mad.’ I said, with my hand to my throat.

‘My dear?’ Vivienne queried, her tone light. But her fingertips were pressed tightly together.

I turned horror stuck to the Orlesian, ‘I,’ I paused, mouth open unsure what I could say, I looked directly at Dorian, ‘I, think I need to speak to that halla.’

Vivienne gave me a short gasp of disbelief, ‘you want to speak to halla, my dear?’

‘The yellowish one, that you were chasing round the campfire this morning?’ Dorian asked, and then shrugged to Vivienne when she flashed him a warning glance.

‘I don’t think it’s a halla.’ I clarified. I flushed, feeling utterly foolish.

Vivienne laughed, rocking her head back as she did so, ‘and what makes you say that?’

I held up my left hand, pulling the sleeve down to show off the green scars, ‘it had marks on its back leg, like these, but purple.’

Vivienne stopped laughing and looked at Dorian. His eyes were wide, a mouth ajar, he struggled to form words.

I pulled the two closer to confer, and looked over my shoulder to make doubly sure we were alone, ‘my hand was marked by an orb, an,’ I waved my hands, ‘ancient artefact of some sort.’ My voice dropped quieter still and Vivienne leaned in more. ‘And, a few years ago, a hunter from my clan found another orb. It touched his leg and spread a _purple_ mark.’

‘You think the orbs are connected?’ Dorian asked.

Vivienne shook her head, ‘but what does it have to do with this halla?’

I took a breath and sat up straighter, ‘the orbs are… Elvhen.’ Dorian let out a snort of disbelief but saw the seriousness of my expression and silenced. ‘I believe that I have Andruil’s power, which allows me to tap into the Abyss. And the purple one, I think it belonged to Ghilan’nain, it is said that she created the halla. Maybe it has the powers of transfiguration?’ I sat back, my companions looked dazed. ‘I know, it sounds mad, but I need to investigate.’

After the longest heartbeats, waiting for their response. Vivienne sat back, took a little sip of her wine, ‘and how do you plan to talk to a halla?’

I laughed, it was a twisted hysterical sounds, and put my head in my hands, ‘I have no idea.’ I confessed to the ground. 


	67. D'or

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Vivienne and Lavellan meet with the Golden Halla with the purple scar on the back of his leg.

As we approached the camp, I noticed a tiny bright orange light that flashed on the hill. I gave Vivienne a quick look and we both stopped, I could just about make out a faint silhouette. The light flashed again and then was gone. Someone was smoking on the hill, they stood. They paused for a moment, I couldn’t make them out in the dusk light. _Gracious Ghilan’nain, protect me_. I waved at the figure.

I heard the scrambling of footsteps and the person bounded towards me, ‘Hellana? Why did you come back?’ A male voice I recognised asked in a frantic whisper. ‘Did you clear our _Var Bellanaris?’_

‘Loranil,’ I breathed with a sigh of relief as I made out his outline. ‘Yes it’s clear, but I’m here about the halla.’

‘The halla?’ He asked, a little too loud, his nose crinkling in confusion.

‘Valorin?’ A female voice called from the _araval_ closest. ‘Is that you?’ Her voice was clipped and close.

Loranil’s mouth dropped open into an o, he pushed me backwards, shooing me with both of his hands. He turned but relaxed a little as the woman had not yet left the _araval_ , ‘No, Emalien, it’s Loranil.’

‘Well, hush! We’re trying to sleep!’ The elf I guessed was Emalien shouted back, unimpressed.

‘ _Ir abelas_!’ Loranil called, and then turned to us.

Behind him the sound of Emalien’s muttered curses came spilling out from the land-ship and I risked a glance at Vivienne. She gave me a dark look that told me it had been too close for comfort.

Loranil glanced around, wringing his hands together. I guessed from his expression that he was supposed to be on watch. ‘Wait, what are you doing here?’ He asked again. His voice had risen in pitch.  

‘It sounds mad, but please, believe me. I need to see the halla.’ I explained as quietly as I could.

‘You want to see all the halla?’ He hissed back, scratching his head. His nose crinkled again.

‘No, the golden one.’

Loranil took a sharp intake of breath, he looked behind him, jumping at a noise I didn’t hear. He looked back, ‘why?’

I looked down at the ground, _I’m going to have to say it out loud._ ‘I believe that he might be an elf I used to know.’ A laugh twitched across Loranil’s face, my hand went to his shoulder, ‘Elgar’nan strike me down if I lie,’ I swore upon the leader of the gods, he whose vengeance at being improperly invoked was legendary. Loranil’s face contorted, and I had the oddest thought that he’s be a terrible player of the Game as every emotion he felt was clearly displayed on his features.

‘By Elgar’nan?’ He confirmed. It was not something to be said lightly. Whatever doubts he harboured were overshadowed by my words.

‘Yes.’

‘ _Fire of Sylaise_ ,’ Loranil swore, and then he glanced up at the sky and touched a hand to his _vallaslin_. ‘Hawen will un-name me if he discovers that you are here.’

I froze, to be un-named. I couldn’t risk that for this young Hunter, _this was madness._ I told myself. I couldn’t find the words for a long moment and my mouth opened and closed useless. Then an idea struck me, ‘Will you go to the halla, and’ I paused again, ‘ask it if it is Dehnan?’

‘Dehnan?’ Loranil repeated back to me, tasting the name. He shook his head at me, speechless. Then he shrugged, ‘I can try,’ and left Vivienne and I alone.

In my head I drew an imaginary line around the _aravals,_ and I drew us back four more steps. And now Hawen could not claim we were encroaching onto his camp.

‘What is a Dehnan?’ Vivienne asked me, her voice barely audible.

‘He was the Hunter that I knew. Last time I saw him, he had scars like these along his leg. Then he ran into the forest.’

‘Of course,’ she said, as though it wasn’t the craziest thing that I’d ever said.

We waited silently, the sun steadily rising. Please let this clan not be the kind that arose at dawn. In the rest moments the rush of action faded for a second and I felt the heaviness behind my eyes. The pounding ache in my limbs that begged for rest. I stifled a yawn behind my hand.

Loranil returned to us, slowly, taking careful steps, looking white as a sheet.

I touched his arm to steady him. ‘What is it?’

‘You’d better come with me,’ he said simply. He was wide-eyed and I was worried that he might pass out.

He guided Vivienne and I through camp and into a little cave in the hillside. At the bottom of the cave the golden halla was stood, illuminated by a beam of sunlight that washed down into the cave. His head cocked to the side so that his dark unblinking eye could was us approach. He trotted over, and nudged his cold nose against my left hand and lifted up the scared purpled back leg again.

I crouched before the creature, ‘Dehnan?’ I asked, barely louder than a whisper.

The halla nodded and I put out a hand to the ground in shook to stop myself falling over. It was mad, complete mad, and yet - I looked at Vivienne, ‘did you see that?’ I said breathlessly.

Her eyes narrowed at the creature. ‘Do you understand us?’ Vivienne asked in a clipped tone.

Again the halla nodded. And Vivienne hissed, ‘how do we know it isn’t a demon?’

The halla gave her what can only be described as a withering look. And then shook his head, sending his horns knocking together.

I held up my hands, ‘sorry,’ Then I considered, ‘how did you get here?’ I asked.

The halla looked at me for a long moment and then rolled his dark eyes at me.

‘Right, right, yes and no questions.’ I said, a flush crawling up the sides of my face. I paused trying to think of something to ask, ‘did you touch a purple orb?’

The halla, or should I be calling him Dehnan, nodded again and lifted his back leg. This time stamping it down onto the ground with a little thump.

‘I have a matching one,’ I said showing him my left hand.

Dehnan tilted his head and licked my hand, and I pulled it away quickly. Wiping the halla spit off on my leggings.

Behind me, I hear the tell-tale crackle of the morning fire being lit, and the fire-lighting hymns to Sylaise beginning. _We were out of time._ I turned to Loranil panic stricken. ‘What do we do?’ I hissed.

Loranil stretched his neck out to see who was awake, ‘quickly,’ he hissed.

‘Stay here?’ I said to the halla who looked more than unimpressed. But Dehnan lay on the ground with an unimpressed sigh.

I shot him an apologetic look.

Loranil lead us back out of the cave. ‘They were not here,’ he spoke to an elf I didn’t recognise.

The hearthmistress looked up from her duties and smirked, ‘who?’

Loranil nodded and gave her shoulder a squeeze and he passed. She smiled to me but was less convinced when she saw Vivienne.  We hurried past before she had time to doubt it.

We were past the stream before he stopped, ‘I will keep the halla safe for you.’

‘ _Ma serannas_ , _lethallin_ ’ I whispered, pulling Loranil into a tight hug. ‘I will be back as soon as I can.’

Loranil was beaming proudly at my use of _lethallin_ , and I felt a little stab of guilt. I had meant it of course, but I had meant it because I needed something from him. He took a hold of my hands and pulled our entwined fists together. ‘Go, quickly, before the Keeper sees you.’ We touched our foreheads on either side of our hands, and then broke apart.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translation 
> 
> D'or - Golden 
> 
> Edited 24/06/19


	68. Métamorphose

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lavellan goes back again to the Dalish clan, hopefully for the last time?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This entire concept comes from the second time I played through the game and I was bitterly disappointed that the Keeper didn't recognise Solas. I mean not even a, 'have we met before?'  
> Like don't Keepers literally have one job?

Vivienne had nothing to say on the way back, and I didn’t feel like talking either. I felt the exhaustion of not sleeping combined with a terrifying giddiness that I might have stumbled accidentally across a member of my clan thought lost years ago. I prayed I could trust Loranil and he would keep the halla safe. I hoped Cassandra would not have noticed our little dawn escapade.

Though as we approached I realised one was wishful thinking. Cassandra’s angry shouting echoing around the ancient ruins, which was sparsely interrupted by Dorian’s mild protests. Vivienne gave me a look, steeling herself as she did so, ‘if only she had a little charm, she could be a remarkable leader.’

I sighed, with no words to reply, I took a breath and stepped forward to face the music. I saw Dorian sitting where he had been on the other side of the fire. His head was pressed back as far as it would go, dismay written across his lovely features. He was watching Cassandra in stunned silence as she passed back and forth shouting at him. ‘Why would you let them go? What is the matter with you?’ She huffed, and threw her hands to her thighs, then turned raising a hard to point at his chest, ‘ _if I were still a Seeker_ ,’ she threatened.

That gave me pause, I thought Cassandra was still a Seeker?

Dorian seemed to find himself in the threat, ‘you’d what? Drag me to one of your Circles?’ The sneer in his tone was evident from twenty paces. I didn’t dare look at Vivienne to see her reaction. Dorian’s eyes flicked from Cassandra to focus on my for the barest heartbeat.

‘I would absolutely-‘ Cassandra spun, ‘Inquisitor.’

I froze and I let out the tiniest whimper in the face of her fury.

‘Where have you been?’ She yelled at me.

‘Chasing a lead,’ I replied quickly. I was about to explain more when I noticed Solas was awake, watching with a concerned interest, which made me lose my words.

‘So help me-‘

‘My dear, do calm yourself. It’s unseemly.’ Vivienne snapped at Cassandra, drawing her ire.

Cassandra flashed the horned woman a murderous glance. But then she clipped the bridge of her nose with thumb and forefinger and sighed. Dorian and I exchanged a glance, _it was that easy?_ ‘Why did you not tell me you were leaving?’ She asked me in a decidedly softer tone.

I wrapped my arms around me chest, ‘I didn’t want you to shout at me.’ _Gods, my voice sounded pitiful._

Cassandra’s eyebrows went up, she blinked. Her hand rested on the hilt of her sword for the merest moment. ‘Maker’s mercy.’ She swore and sat down heavily.

Vivienne took over for me, ‘we seem to have found something-’ she began and recounted what had happened for the other three while I sat down heavily watching the flames lick up from the fire.

 

‘Have you ever seen anything like it, in the fade?’ Cassandra asked Solas.

Solas considered Cassandra’s question thoughtfully, ‘in the fade? No I haven’t.’

‘Piss,’ I hissed under my breath, _there goes our best lead._ ‘So what are we going to do?’ I asked the little group.

Cassandra turned to Vivienne, ‘and you’re sure it wasn’t a demon?’

Vivienne inclined her head in the direction of Cassandra, lips pursed.

At that moment we were interrupted by an agent stepping forward, ‘sorry to interrupt, Inquisitor,’ she said in a cowed voice, she dropped me a quick bow which I pretended to ignore. ‘There is an elf to see you, Dalish.’

‘Bring them then,’ I said, and glanced across at the little group, an apprehension forming in my throat. I played with the woven bracelet on my wrist, if Dehnan hadn’t touched the orb his thread would be wrapped around my wrist now.

‘Hunter?’ A familiar voice asked and I looked up to see Ithiren.

‘Hunter,’ I greeted in response and we shared a smile while Dorian groaned.

Ithiren gave a quick glance around my companions, but then turned back with a worried glance, ‘Hawen wants to see you.’

‘He changed his mind?’

Ithiren grimaced, ‘Loranil invoked _vir sulevanan.’_

I stood alarmed, ‘what?’ I gasped at the man before me. ‘How can he do that?’

‘The halla belonged to Clan Hawen, and he’s taking it. Claims it’s magic or some hart-crap.’ Ithiren rolled his eyes.

‘Ahh,’ _fenedhis,_ I rubbed my eyes, ‘he isn’t magic, he,’ I glanced around and changed tack ‘I can talk to the halla.’

‘It would be useful to see this halla for ourselves,’ Solas interrupted. At first glance he unfazed by the events, but his hand was clasped too tightly on his staff. He was uncertain.

I looked towards Cassandra, with an expectant look, _well are we going?_

She huffed, and head out an arm as though to say, _lead the way._

 

‘Back again,’ Vivienne commented as we returned through the ruined glade with the ancient tree in the centre. I did not ask the ancient archers for blessing nor did I acknowledge the owl messengers of Andruil. My very bones were tired, and I trudged forward.

When we got to the stream, I stopped for a moment to splash the water on my face, I felt a little better. I was careful to ensure my gaze did not drift upstream, I didn’t know if it would be possibly to see the wolf statue at the top of the waterfall from this position, but I didn’t dare look. I tapped the woven bracelet again, silently begging for any luck the gods wished to give me.

As I approached the camp for the third time, the Dalish there fell silent. I saw the woman I had passed this morning freeze by the fire. Her eyes were sharp but watching ever move that the Keeper made. She didn’t even acknowledge that I was there. Keeper Hawen did acknowledge me, although barely.

‘Loranil had told me you came into my camp uninvited this morning.’ He snapped without preamble.

I lowered my eyes to the ground and stepped a couple steps away from my companions, to spare them the wrath of the Keeper, ‘I came alone, but yes.’

He huffed, and I noticed his staff was laid on the ground next to him. The Hearthmistress noticed it too and nudged it away from him with her foot. ‘He tells me you can speak to this creature?’

I couldn't spot Loranil, ‘where is he?’ I asked quickly.

Hawen jerked his head to the side, I spotted Loranil up on the side of the hill by the ancient halla statue which perched their precariously. ‘Answer my question, hunter.’

I almost smiled at just being a hunter again but kept my face impassive. ‘I don’t believe it is a halla, Keeper, I think it might be someone I knew.’

‘Someone?’

‘It might be easier to show you,’ I said, spreading a hand to ask permission to enter the little cave.

Hawen gave me a dark look, eyes full of mistrust and he jerked his head in the direction of Loranil. ‘ _Da’len_ claimed it.’ He said the term like a curse.

I nodded and making careful steps around the edge of his camp, ensuring that I did not step over into the Keeper’s territory.

And so, I found myself at the bottom of the hill, with Solas on my right and Keeper Hawen on my right. Loranil in front of me with a bored yellow halla on his lap.

‘Hellana,’ Loranil said cheerful, then his face darkened, ‘Keeper.’

I approached, the halla stood. And pawed the ground in front of him impatiently.

‘Dehnan,’ I said softly, ‘I’m so sorry, please bear with us, would you step left for yes and right for no.’

The halla rolled its eyes and me and took a step to the left and then back to the centre.

‘And your name is Dehnan Lavellan?’ I queried. Again the halla stepped left.

‘It’s fascinating,’ Solas began, watching the halla intently, but as he spoke he drew the attention of Hawen.

Hawen looked the taller man up and down, ‘do I know you?’ He asked abruptly.

Solas barely turned his attention, flicking an uninterested glance at the Keeper, ‘we met briefly the day before yesterday.’

‘I _know_ you,’ the Keeper repeated, eyes narrowing.

I looked back at the Loranil who was pushing himself to his feet, wide eyed and worried. ‘Emalien!’ He called panicked.

I turned back to find Hawen advancing on Solas, who was utterly unaware of the danger that he was in. I darted between them, pushing Hawen away. I could see the fury in his eyes, snarling teeth, ‘calm Keeper,’ I begged, ‘he’s with me.’

I saw the Hearthmistress, Emalien, appear with a paper full of powers which she was dumping into a waterskin. She had the cork back in and was shaking the mixture together. And then Hawen took hold of my shoulders, shaking me, ‘what have you done?’ He shouted at me, with a wild panicked look in his eyes, before shoving me to the ground.

I fell, landing heavily on my right side, knocking my head hard. My ears where ringing as I looked up. I tried to sit up but found a halla body blocking me. ‘Dehnan,’ I whispered confused, then I felt something strange. There was a tendril of magic floating from his halla body, floating, but frightened and confused. Without intending to, I pushed it towards the fade.

The next moments happened very quickly. Hawen was screaming a Dalish-dog curse at Solas. Solas had his hands up looking perplexed but his knuckles were white around his staff and he was preparing for an attack. Emalien had grabbed Hawen’s shoulder, pushing the concocting into his hands and was forcing him to drink it. And then everyone had frozen, distracted by a slow, ugly popping sound. Creating an odd sort of horrified tableau.

I looked over to the halla next to me, to find it was no halla shaped any longer. The tanned elf, with sprawling purple scars up his leg chewed the air in unhappy bites, ‘teeth are weird,’ he stated. 'Hands,' he said delighted running a hand through his hair, 'no more horns,' his voice was cracked from years of not being used. And then he turned to me, ‘Els, you did it.’ 

 _Oh gods above!_ I clapped my hands over my eyes, feeling the flush colour my cheeks, ‘Den, you’re naked.’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translation
> 
> Métamorphose - transformation
> 
> Edited - 24/06/19


	69. An Offering to Ghilan'nain

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lavellan has managed to find a member of her clan that she thought was lost, but how will he take the news that she's Inquisitor?

I shrugged my pack off and pulled out a blanket to pass to the naked Dehnan, I was about to ask what had happened to him, but the Keeper rounded on me.

‘What is Clan Lavellan up to?’ Hawen spat at me, all while Emalien was trying to pull him back.

I blinked at him not comprehending. But Loranil spoke for me, ‘it’s hardly another conspiracy is it?’ His tone was frustrated and filled with penchant anger.

‘I have a task for you, _Da’len_ ,’ Hawen spoke coldly to the younger elf.

Loranil narrowed his eyes, ‘still going to hold me to that?’ He swept an arm over Dehnan, ‘he’s a person, under the rules of _vir sulevanan_ he can’t be traded. He only belongs to himself.’ And Loranil smirked, crossing his arms over his chest.

The atmosphere turned cold, and the smile dripped off Loranil’s face.

‘Go with the inquisition, as you wish, don’t come back.’ Hawen said quietly, Emalien gasped, her hands going over her mouth in horror, he flashed her an angry look, ‘throw your lot in with the cursed Lavellans.’ 

Dehnan’s eyebrows lowered and he started to defend us, but I smacked his hands and whispered, ‘leave it.’ He nodded reluctantly, confusion spread across his face.

Loranil huffed, ‘fine.’ And he threw an unflattering hand gesture at his Keeper.

I bit my lip and pretended not to see it.

‘What’s his problem?’ Dehnan asked me in a hushed tone.

‘Got the dread,’ I replied. Earning me a raised eyebrow from Solas.

‘What’s the dread?’ Dehnan queried.

I looked into his emerald green eyes and froze, he’d left before Dirthanna had come down with the sickness. Loranil caught my attention with a gesture, ‘open sky!’ he hissed in warning.

I nodded, and Dehnan had understood Loranil’s warning. I gave a worried glance to the open sky, it was not something to be spoken of in the presence of the gods, _they did not cause it and could not help_.

Hawen threw a quick curse at us and staggered off, down the hill and back into his camp. His feet were unsteady. Emalien watched him go, and I could see she was torn between helping her Keeper and remaining with us. She stayed for a moment, pulling Loranil into a tight hug. ‘Be safe, and keep an eye out for my brother.’

He nodded and gave her a broad smile, and as they broke apart he pulled a pack which had been hidden behind the ancient halla statue.

‘You planned this,’ she chastised the younger elf lightly and he grinned.

She turned to leave, but I caught her arm, ‘where is your First?’

Emalien gave me a grim look, and she adjusted the brilliant red scarf around her neck, ‘Taven’s in the Emerald Graves, on a fool’s errand.’

‘Send word,’ I said solemnly, ‘he needs to come back and end this.’

She shook her head, ‘he could get better-‘

‘Believe me, it doesn’t get better.’ I said softly.

Emalien’s eyes were wide, but she nodded. She took my hands but did not pull them to her forehead. We nodded at each other and she ran off after the Keeper.

I turned back to Solas, ‘how are you?’

He gave me a tight, quick smile and turned his attention to the newly remade man. He knelt down next to Dehnan. ‘How did this happen?’

Dehnan squinted and I could see he would need to rest rather than answer a million questions.

‘I showed his magic where the fade was,’ I answered a different question. ‘I didn’t mean to,’ I added, after I saw the concerned looked on Loranil’s face. Then I looked to Solas, ‘like you showed me,’ on the mountain, on the way to the Temple of Sacred Ashes. I touched my marked hand instinctively, feeling the ghost of Solas’ hand from months ago.

‘Els,’ Dehnan snapped, catching my attention, ‘can we go?’ He lowered his voice, ‘the Keeper gives me the creeps.’

‘Sure Den,’ I smiled.

Loranil helped Dehnan up, introducing himself as he did so.

‘If there are to be introductions, I am Solas,’ Solas said. I smiled, almost exactly the same thing he’d said to me. At least this time the mountain was just a hill and it wasn’t covered in rifts and demons. Just dread-sick Keepers.

 

As Dorian, Vivienne and Cassandra came into view, Dehnan hissed with the edge of his voice covered in panic, ‘just our luck, _shem,_ over other side of the stream.’

I laughed without meaning too, and I stepped in front of him, ‘don’t freak.’ I said holding my palms up to him.

‘Els?’ He sighed concerned.

‘They’re… um… my _shem_?’ It felt a little odd to be claiming the three were mine, but I didn’t have a clue how to tell him about the Inquisition.

Dehnan was shaking his head at me, _‘you’ve gone mad.’_

‘Actually, that would be the world.’ I said quickly.

_‘What?’_

‘You’ve been gone, what, six years?’ I said, ‘maybe you should sit down.’ I said quickly and lowered my hands. Dehnan just gave me a get on with it look. ‘Deshanna’s Keeper now, Jilna’s become a Hunter,’ he looked a little sad, but nodded, ‘the Inquisition has been reformed.’

_‘What?’_

‘And I got named Inquisitor?’

_‘Els?’_

‘Actually, it’s _your worship_ now,’ I said with a scowl and a half playful curtsy.

‘Well I bet you _just_ love that.’ He drawled sarcastically.

We stared at each other in shocked silence for two heartbeats before, Dehnan doubled over laughing, and I ugly cackled with him. _Finally, someone who realised the situation was utterly ridiculous._ He shook Loranil’s arm away, which was holding him up, to go lean against a tree. Desperately trying to catch his breath through body shaking hysterical laughter. ‘You’re, you’re telling me,’ he gasped pointing at himself, ‘that I got turned into a halla, and you became _your worship_.’ He pushed himself up from the tree, ‘you always were lucky, Els.’

I took a shuddering breath, ‘don’t know about that,’ I looked away for a moment. ‘There’s also a tear in the sky, and a magister trying to raise a demon army.’ I added, sobered a little. 

‘And you started with Jilna’s a Hunter?’ He shook his head, and re-adjusted the blanket fashioned into clothing. Then he took a step back, ‘no, no, not going to play. I’m going back to being a halla.’

I made a sad noise without meaning to. He looked up and smirked, ‘course not, Els.’ Then he looked up at the sky, ‘mother Mythal,’ he touched his fingertips to the lines on his chin, but froze and turned back to me with a wild look. ‘I can,’ he waved at his face, _pray again_. He sighed happily and pulled me into tight hug. 


	70. Mother of Monsters

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This will be one of the last chapters of the Golden Halla arc, we’ll be back to our regularly scheduled canon shortly!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Woops named two chapters the same thing! Changed the chapter title so there wouldn’t be a repeat - Hezjena xx 14/03/19

Dorian was watching Loranil as one might watch a cat on a high shelf next to a vase, with intense suspicion. Though, Loranil was sneaking glances at every possible moment back at him. And to my great amusement Cassandra kept disappearing on various errands, she could come back and settle for a moment or two and then think of something else to busy herself with. While the introductions had gone well, Cassandra has almost immediately arranged for Loranil and Dehnan to go straight onto Skyhold in the morning. I was almost bitter that I would be alone again so quickly, but I knew they would both be much safer back at Skyhold. Of my human companions it seemed that Vivienne was most at ease, being outnumbered by elves, she was reclining in the awning of her tent reading through a small packet of Circle documents.

I had spent the later part of the morning fighting my exhaustion, but after lunch I gave up and pulled my bed roll out of the too-hot tent and collapsed into the rocky grass. As much as I wanted to speak to Dehnan, he’d been immediately ushered away by a fretting Solas. It seemed that whatever experience he had gained looking after my hand would be employed to find the extent of Dehnan’s injuries.

Sometime later, I sat up with a bolt. A half-remembered dream of Dehnan’s bone cracking transformation playing in front of my vision. And a terrible thought crossed my mind, ‘if Den turned into a halla, you don’t think all the halla were once-?’

‘Open sky,’ Loranil hissed at me, cutting me off.

I glanced upwards and nodded, but making eye contact with the younger elf, I could see that he was considered it. Did Ghilan’nain make her creatures from elves? 

‘Mother of Monsters,’ he intoned, the spoken epithet sounding like a prayer, giving me more information while not offending any gods watching from above.

‘It appears that the mark is not spreading,’ Solas stated, dusting off his hands and taking a seat by the campfire. I gave him a small smile, which caused his eyes to flash to my face. But I couldn’t stop thinking about the halla. There was silence for a long moment, then Solas asked, ‘have I interrupted you, forgive me.’  

Dorian broke in, ‘they were just being annoying cryptic, something about halla and the open sky.’

I couldn’t help the smirk, ‘what?’ No, we,’ I twisted my hands in front of me, and tilted my head to Dorian, ‘it’s a Dalish thing, difficult to explain.’

Lornail twisted round, wagging and mock finger, ‘ no sacrilege under the open sky ,’ he said in a voice that made me sure he was mimicking Hawen, then he pointed upwards, ‘the gods are up there, so we just don’t say anything that could case offense.’

‘Caves are fine,’ I added laughing and waving a hand over my head to mimic a shield, ‘stone is always good, but wood and canvas tend to vary clan to clan.’

‘We don’t trust the wood not to tell the trees,’ Loranil added with a sudden solemnity, ‘ stone above your head or leave the words abed .’

I smiled at the adage that I had not heard for years, ‘which would make our clan lax in comparison.’

Dorian squinted a little in confusion.

‘How very arbitrary,’ Solas noted softly, disapprovingly, not looking at me.

I gave him my best shrug. Then closed my eyes for a moment forming a sentence that could not be misinterpreted by the gods above. ‘I simply asked, considering what happened to Den, what the origin of the halla might be.’

Dorian started to speak, but Loranil cut him off, ‘open sky,’ he hissed.

Dorian did not look impressed. ‘How very annoying,’ he drawled.

‘Think of it like the Game, my dear,’ Vivienne admonished, not even looking up from her documents. ‘There are plenty of things we may say behind some fools back, but not to his face.’

‘She gets it,’ Loranil smiled, but his face dropped as Vivienne gave him a withering look.

‘She?’ Vivienne muttered darkly under her breath.

The day passed by all to quickly, and soon the night air was cold and thick on my skin. I glanced up at the two moons and sent up a silent prayer of thanks to Ghilan’nain for guiding Dahnan back to us.

When I returned to the conversation, I noted with some delight that Dorian and Loranil were heavily debating the finer points of Dalish ales, putting aside whatever misgivings the two had had about each other had disappeared as soon as the drinks began flowing. And on the other side, Cassandra and Dehnan were conversing over the merits of longswords against daggers. I moved over to sit by Solas, interrupting his thoughtfulness. My knee touched his and he looked up to me, ‘thank you, for helping Den.’ I said quickly. ‘He seems to have recovered remarkably well,’ I nodded over to see him prattling on about the proper balance for a good hilt.

‘He appears to be making up for the years he was unable to speak,’ Solas replied softly. ‘His mark is not like yours,’ he continued taking my left hand in his, the faint green glow appearing to slightly distort his sharp features. He traced along the cut in the centre of my palm, making me shiver deliciously, ‘he has no anchor. The orb’s power does not reside within him, just the scars from touching a powerful artefact,’ blue eyes looked up to mine.

‘So how did he change shape?’

Solas smirked, placing my hand down gently on my knee, ‘residual energy I suspect. But eventually it will burn out, it is unlikely that he will transform again.’

I leaned against him, head against his shoulder. ‘Good, can’t lose him again.’

‘You are close?’ The question hung in the air and I glanced up. Solas was looking directly into the fire.

I wobbled my hand in front of me, ‘kinda, he was,’ I cleared my throat, ‘is, one of the hunters. Though we didn’t work together much, he was always following Vaelantine around with big puppy-dog eyes.’ I vividly remembered that she’d been distraught when he’d gone missing.

‘Puppy-dog ,’ Solas repeated stiffly, and glanced back the way we had come,, ‘what was it the Keeper was shouting at me this morning?’

I closed my eyes, the old dog-curses were rarely spoken of these days but had been passed down to us as a warning and a warding against Fen’Heral himself. ‘It was not worthy,’ I say simply, repeating his own words back to him. But I feel cold in my bones.

He chuckled to himself, ‘are you messing with me?’ Now he was repeating my words back to me.

I glanced across with a sad smile, ‘just protecting you.’ He’d called me lethallin, he might have gone back on it, but I wasn’t that fickle.

Solas gave me an odd look, like he was searching for something that he couldn’t find.

‘Don’t pay it any mind, the Keeper’s sick.’ I said desperately, calming trying to get away from this sudden twist in the conversation.

He paused for a long moment, ‘sick in what way?’

I lifted my head for the smallest moment and gave up on the conversation. ‘Open skies,’ I smiled with a weary look upwards.  
  



	71. Dreadful Memory

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lavellen finds herself in another dream, discussing the last few days with Solas. In these dangerous times, will it all be too much or worth the risk?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW - death mention

I woke slowly, in the curtained bed. Soft blue sheets beneath me, and pale grey stone around me. The balcony door was open, and I could feel the gentle cool air billowing into the room. Skyhold? I couldn’t remember the last time I had physically stepped foot into the room. Was it a month, two? Why did my dreams keep bringing me here? The place was different from the real room, it was a small comforting space, constrained with strong stable walls. Not like the too large room in the waking world that I avoided as often as not.

A shape appeared beside me, to my right, Solas. ‘You found me,’ I noted, by way of greeting.

He shifted so we were lying in parallel, a carefully measured distance between us. Arm tucked under his head. ‘Hellana.’ His words were soft, quiet in the dreamy atmosphere. Without an ill-intent, the words cut me, and just like that I was Hellana again.

I sighed heavily, and then gave him a weak smile in reassurance. I had been Els again for a single afternoon. ‘Yes, I am Hellana.’ I sighed wistfully. He raised an eyebrow, I flushed, ‘it’s just odd to hear.’ I said by way of explanation. Being Els made me a hunter again, just a member of a little clan, without the weight of the world on my shoulders.

‘Odd to hear your own name?’ He chuckled.

‘It’s just, Hellana is the Herald, Hellana is the Inquisitor. Els was neither.’ My voice bent a little over the last word.

Solas gave me a nod, and a stray hand brushed against the top of my thigh for just a split second. A reassurance or a mistake? ‘You would prefer to be called Els?’

The way he said the familial form of my name made me laugh, I clapped a hand over my mouth to stifle the giggles. Then I shook my head, ‘no, no, it isn’t right at all.’ My hands waved in front of my face. ‘I can’t take you seriously if you call me by my clan name.’ Elvish names for all of their beauty, could not be properly pronounced by the children of the clan, so shortened versions were used. To use them beyond adulthood could be the joyful sign of a childhood shared or an offensive slight.

‘Hmm, I am not allowed to call you Els.’ The question came across as more of a statement, accompanied by a smirk. His eyes narrowed with the challenge and his hand reached back out for my hip, his thumb in the line between my thigh and belly. What was this man’s obsession with my hips?

I shook my head and pushed the offence away. ‘Absolutely not,’ I bit my lip as I considered wondering how I could make him understand, ‘you cannot be like me and not like, be my kin and not my kin, you cannot call me by my clan name and be my lover.’

The smile died on his face for the merest of moment as was replaced, he opened his mouth and then closed it again. I had an odd sense of panic flare up for a heartbeat as he stared speechless. ‘Ahh, your lover?’

Be brave, ‘and how would you define this?’ I waved a hand between the two of us.

‘An impulsiveness that will end with pain.’ His words seemed cold. I might even have taken them seriously if his hand wasn’t still pawing at my hip.

I glanced down, and looked up at him with deliberate certainty, ‘just impulsiveness. I see.’ My words were sweet, but I’d spent long enough around Vivienne and Josephine to lace my meaning with venom. ‘Fancy joining me for another round of impulsiveness then?’

He drew his teeth back across his bottom lip, ‘not here,’ he growled, ‘it is taking most of my concentration to keep the wards up.’

‘Wards?’ I asked looking around, through the window, to me it only looked like blue sky. ‘Oh,’ mages drew demons in their sleep, I knew this as much as I knew that objects dropped fell down. But I hadn’t considered it before. It wasn’t safe here. I shuddered to think there might be demons on the other side.  

‘What is the sickness that Keeper Hawen has?’ Solas asked distracting me from my thoughts, with all of the efficiency of if he’d thrown a cup of cold water at my face.

‘It’s,’ I paused considering the room, ‘do you think that it counts?’ I asked looking up at the wooden beams that held up the roof and spreading my hands out.

‘What counts?’ Solas asked, his voice was patient, but the hand on my hip tightened, edging me a little closer into the uncharted territory between us.

‘If the ceiling sounds as stone,’ I added weakly. I wished I could speak to Deshanna, she would know, _wouldn’t she?_ Then I gave Solas a sharp look, ‘it might be dangerous.’ I gave him a little smile, ‘look, Hawen isn’t worth your concern.’ And I noted with a smirk, ‘and he hardly drew your ire when he was simply insulting me.’ I queried and reached down to find the woven bracelet on my wrist, but it was missing. The silence stretched on. I took a deep breath, ‘fine,’ I agreed. ‘We call it the Dread, it’s a kind of paranoia.’

‘Is the name any relation to-‘

‘No,’ I cut him off quickly, and rubbed at my eyes, ‘and he shouldn’t know a damn thing about it either,’ I paused, looking down, his fingers were now digging in. ‘Ouch.’

He blinked and dropped his hand. ‘Sorry.’

‘It’s fine. I think they only called it that because it started among the Keepers, like four hundred years ago.’ I stopped, I wanted his hand back, ‘ugg, words.’ I said quickly to cover my thought.

‘Show me instead?’ He promoted.

I let myself remember the time that Deshanna had half dragged me under the floorboards of an aravel to explain it to me. Her words did a much better job that what I could have done. I was almost proud of myself, but when I turned to Solas he seemed unimpressed.

‘So, the Dalish have frightened themselves to madness?’ Solas’ crisp tone asked. He was gazing at something directly past me, as though I was not longer there.

I frowned, ‘that isn’t fair.’ Without meaning to I remembered the fateful day I had been sat by the campfire in my clan. ‘First, you’re just jumping at shadows, but eventually you become a danger to your clan.’ My voice had become barely louder than a whisper. I glanced up at him, inexplicably nervous.

_‘-and then we burn the whole forest down,’ Dirthanna’s voice spread across me, and I closed my eyes with a shudder. No, please, not this memory. Not like this, I didn’t want to remember this. I wanted to scream but no words came out, I was not just myself anymore. I could only move with my past-self, glancing over with vague interest. And then looking down to the arrows I was carving. Where the sofa should have been, now stood the bottom half of an araval. In front of the wooden hull stood the twins, mirrored. Dirthanna had always been the prim one, always erring on the side of formality, but today she had dark circles under her eyes and her hands jittered in front of her._

_Deshanna’s voice floated over with words I hadn’t caught the first time. She was stood before her sister, trying to sooth her Keeper._

_Dirthanna seemed to snap to attention, and gripped Deshanna’s hands. Deshanna tried to pull away. ‘No,’ I heard her hiss._

_‘You must.’ Dirthanna said steadily, for a split second the beacon of her former self shining through the madness that had invaded her mind._

_They retreated to the araval, and only Deshanna emerged. She threw a small wooden hoop onto the fire that burned at what was dissolving into the foot of the bed, ‘the Keeper is dead.’_

The Keeper is dead, rang in my head and I swallowed hard. ‘It isn’t just madness.’ I snapped.

Solas’ eyes had become dark and his jaw tight and I looked down. Unable to be the target of his intense gaze.

‘And it isn’t just keepers,’ I confessed, ‘the hunters get a variation, Andruil’s dread. When her eye falls on you, when you change from hunter to prey.’ _When is a white rabbit, not just a white rabbit?_ The silence wrapped around me, and I had the odd impression that all I had done something terribly wrong. I frowned, suddenly uncertain. Say something, say anything. But my mind had become blank. You asked. I felt like snapping.

Dark stormy eyes watched me intently, but it was somehow worse. ‘And you worry that you have this.’ Solas asked in such a way that it didn’t come across as a question.

I gasped a laugh, as the tension fell away from me, ‘no, of course not. I know I don’t have it. What does worry me, and might worry you, is if Hawen starts writing to other clans.’

‘Hmm?’

I mimicked a quill scratching into the air, ‘oh yes, Herald of Andraste, you know the one that sucked off the Maker?’ I drawled, sarcasm dripping from my voice, ‘she’s running around the plains, with an agent of Fen’Heral, turning hallas into elves and corrupting innocents into joining her cause.’ I laughed, but it was almost a hysterical sound. ‘If even one clan believes him,’ I sighed and rubbed at my eyes. ‘I doubt even Josie could contain that much fallout.’ I looked back then, ‘I am so sorry, that I got you caught up in this.’

‘It does not concern me what the Dalish say about me,’ and in a swift movement, his hand caught my thigh and I was pulled close against the firm line of his body. I gasped. ‘there is no place else that I would wish to be,’ and then carefully, he lent across and kissed me lightly on the forehead.

I shivered, his lips had touched my vallaslin. ‘Another impulsiveness?’ I breathed. It was the most intimate thing he had done.   


'You appear to be worth the risk.' 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Edited 24/06/19


	72. Dalish Voices

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lavellan offers Loranil a voice and promises Dehnan to silence.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Eek! It’s been a mad week, which is why I haven’t updated for so long! >.<

I sat up with a bolt, and scrubbed at my forehead. ‘Worth the risk?’ I muttered under my breath, and scrubbed at my forehead, trying to rub the dream away. _Impossible, infuriating man. Uggh_ , _what the fuck was that supposed to mean?_ His motives were impossible to pin down. I shifted uneasily and I lay back down and adjusted the folded tunic I was using as a pillow.

‘What’s wrong Els?’ The sleepy voice of Dehnan sounded from besides me. I could barely make out his figure in the gloom. _Fenedhis_ , I’d remembered that I’d agreed to him sharing my tent the night before. It had made sense of course, he was my clan.

I paused, see the rise and fall of his chest as he breathed. When I didn’t respond he sat up, reaching for me. He found my hand, clammy and cold.

I knew that I couldn’t tell him the truth, I had promised Solas that I wouldn’t reveal his status as a dream walker. ‘An odd dream.’ I said quickly, and rubbed at my forehead again.

Dehnan’s band withdrew, ‘just an odd dream?’ He asked again, and I could almost picture his expression, eyebrows furrowed together, lip pouted. Dehnan was not the sort to let things drop, he wouldn’t go back to sleep until I explained.

‘I,’ I paused again desperately fumbling for words that wouldn’t come, but what really was there to say? Solas had touched my _vallaslin,_ but in a dream _._ I felt an indignant fury raise in my chest, and I wanted to claw the lines on my face off, ‘I feel as though,’ I waved my hand over my face, not wanting to finish the sentence.

Thankfully, Dehnan nodded as though he understood perfectly. ‘Someone’s been touching your face?’

I nodded, he shuddered in a solidarity. And I was thankful that I didn’t need to explain to Dehnan what it felt like when the blood magic that resided within my skin was disturbed. _Fenedhis,_ it would be impossible to sleep again. I shrugged a cloak over my shoulders and left the tent.

‘Want me to come?’ Dehnan asked.

‘No, try to get some sleep.’

 

The dark sky was tinted with the first light of dawn and I met Loranil already sat reigniting the dying fire. He glanced up to me and I approached, looking relieved.

He waved a hand to the embers, ‘I have no idea how to do this.’

I sat down beside him, ‘the fire or the prayers?’

He barked a little laugh, ‘the prayers, Emalien always does them.’

It took a little while, but I taught him the prayers that I knew. Feeding him a line at a time, until he had them memoried. He had a lovely voice. ‘It’s a rough translation.’ I confessed, once we were done.

‘Emalein’s was always in elvish.’ Loranil said looking away from me, it wasn’t supposed to be a jab, but it stung anyway.

I pushed the hurt away and sighed. Taking a moment to toss more sticks on the fire, ‘our clan’s lost the language. We’ve got a lexicon, but it’s only used for names, actually I think was made from the copy your clan keeps.’

Loranil gave me an odd look, ‘why do the Lavellans have a copy of the lexicon?’

I gave him a bit of a grimace, ‘my aunt traded it with Hawen for an enchantment if memory serves me correctly.’

‘Dirthanna?’ He asked after a long moment.

I gave him a quick nod, and Loranil smiled, ‘I remember her, she was strict but nice enough.’

I smiled, but felt my heart heavy in my chest. It was good to hear that someone outside our clan still remembered her. _Dirthanna, strict and kind enough_ , a shining Keeper that had led Lavellan well. ‘Actually, there is something that you could do for me,’ I said quickly, suddenly inspired. _Loranil, I need your voice._

‘What do you need?’

‘When you get to Skyhold, find Josephine. Big hall, second door on the left. You can’t miss her, she isn’t a subtle dresser.’ I buried a smile at Josie’s choice of clothing. She was always swathed in brillant golds, rich blues and royal purples. She put the forest birds to shame. I risked a glance in the direction of the Hawen campsite. ‘Josie is our diplomate, she’s good, but she’s a _shem_ . I _need_ a Dalish voice to speak for me, to put some of these awful rumours to bed.’

Loranil picked up another stick and broke it in his hands, and tosses the broken twigs onto the fire.  ‘You think anyone would care what I have to say? Hawen kicked me out of the clan.’

I shook my head, _he hadn’t been unnamed, so technically he was still a member of Clan Hawen._ ‘I wouldn’t offer unless I thought you could do it.’

He nodded seriously, considering the responsibility I was asking him to take on. Then he leaned back on his heels and racked his gaze over me, his eyes sparked, ‘I can try.’

I smiled, ‘I cannot ask for anything more.’ I touched him shoulder, thanking him.

The lines of my face had settled, the magic no longer throbbing under my skin. _That’s my first problem solved and I haven’t even had breakfast yet,_ I thought with elation. _June craft the rest of the day like this._ I prayed towards the open sky.

 

Returning to my tent to pack for the day, my hand was on the thick woven fabric of the canvas when I felt a touch against my skin and jumped. _Solas_. ‘I did not mean to startled you, it was not my intention to.’

I waved his concern away with my hand. But narrowed my eyes for a moment, I was secretly sure he enjoyed sneaking up on me. _Problem two?_ ‘Ahh, let me get one thing clear, I like this,’ I moved my hand between my chest and his, ‘but not this.’ I raised my hand to move from my face to his. ‘Please, don’t touch my _vallaslin_ ,’ then I broke off, I had been meaning to give him the reasons. Simple courtesy, would suffice as a reason, but it was deeper than that in truth.

He tilted his head and dark eyes flicked to the tree branches that twisted around my eyes, I could see the curiosity there. And it was a part of what made me so afraid, I didn’t want to be anyone’s mere curiosity. ‘You think I don’t know what _you think_ they mean.’ He said, the question twisted into a statement daring me to disagree.

I looked down, but nodded.

He studied me for a moment, ‘that explains why you woke up, the magic sings even from the dream.’

Whatever I had been expecting, this wasn’t it. My breath caught in my throat, _‘sings_ is not the word I’d use.’ I snapped, but my words fell on deaf ears.

He seemed captivated by whatever train of thought he was following and raised his hand experimentally to my face, and I caught his wrist. ‘ _Try me_ .’ I hissed in annoyance. The twitch of a smile played across his lips as I pushed his hand away from me. ‘I said, don’t touch my _vallaslin.’_

Solas blinked, about to say something, but I twisted away from him. _Infuriating, impossible man._ I thought for the second time that morning. I entered the tent, only to see Dehnan sat cross legged. The expression on his face told me he had heard everything. _Fenedhis._

‘It seems you’re keeping things from me, Els.’ He said steadily.

My mood soured, I snapped at him, ‘you’re not my Keeper, Den, I don’t have to explain myself to you.’ My hand perched on my hip.

He looked at me like I’d grown a second head, a flicker of uncertainty flashed across his eyes, ‘you’re right.’ He agreed after a couple heartbeats. Then gave me a pointed look, ‘but the Keeper will want to know you’ve stumbled across a dream-walker?’

‘No,’ I narrowed my eyes at him and I hissed in a breath, ‘promise me you will not.’

‘Why?’

My stomach sank. The question hung in the air, _because I’d promised not to tell_. I thought frantically. I dropped to the floor, sitting down heavily. I stared at him blankly for a long moment and then down at my hands twisting together nervously in my lap. ‘So this is how you repay me for helping break free from Ghilan'nain's punishment?’

Dehnan’s features twisted from control to concern. 'Ghilan'nain?' He leaned forward hands flapping in the air as he realised he had as little idea of what to do as I did. He swore under his breath, ‘fine.’

‘Promise me. Not a word to anyone.’ I breathed.

‘Mythal strike me down if I do,’ he said solemnly, his fingertips touching the lines carved onto his face.

I nodded, I would make him repeat it under the open sky before we left.


	73. Stone Eyes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Business is back to usual in the Plains, and Lavellan gets on the wrong side of a hunger demon. Dalish ruins are everywhere, and the statues are watching.

I knelt in front of the large stone owl, I could feel Cassandra’s eyes glaring daggers into my back. I pulled an arrow from my quiver and raised it above my head. The air stung with the stench of burning wood and bodies. As difficult as saying goodbye to Loranil and Dehnan had been this morning, I was almost grateful that they were saved from the mornings activities. We’d picked our way through another  _ shem  _ fortification. It had been a maze of mud and wood, and every corner had revealed more undead. The Eastern rampart, I believed Cassandra had named it. Like it’s Western counterpart, it had been one of Gaspard’s strongholds that had become overrun with necromantic magic. At least Dorian seemed happy, his chest has puffed up once he’d worked the complicated magic to dispel the curses placed upon the structure. He had proven himself a valuable member of the team, not only being a particularly proficient mage, but the only mage we had who knew how to untangle the cursed pits. The moment he was finished unworking the magic, the corpses had dropped to the ground around us rippling out from him. Earning him the cat-like nod of Vivienne’s approval. 

‘It’s some kind of bird god, I think?’ I heard Dorian say behind me. 

I rolled my eyes at Andruil’s messenger, and carved stone eyes gaze unblinking back..  _ Shem,  _ I silently communicated with the stone before me. I placed the arrow reverently on the ground, as I heard Cassandra tut her disapproval.

‘And if you need that arrow?’ She muttered. 

I closed my eyes, trying to push her from my mind and touched my fingers to my  _ vallaslin.  _ I would always happily be a single arrow short to ensure that the gods were placated. Andruil had guided my arm through the  _ shem  _ maze and I needed to offer my thanks. To do anything less would be to invite her wrath, to turn her eye to me. Though I was conscious enough of my worship that I kept the offering as short as I could. 

I stood, and turned back to the little group. ‘It isn’t a bird god, Dorian,’ I mocked playfully. ‘It’s a messenger.’

He flashed me a quick smile, ‘oh yes, that explains everything.’ 

 

Later in the afternoon, we had stumbled across yet another  _ shem  _ stronghold. Again crawling with demons and undead. I could see why Celene had wanted someone to deal with this mess,  _ typical shem.  _ I thought unkindly, break the Dales and make an elf clear up her mess. It broke my heart to see what the Empress’ war had done to my ancestral homeland. It had been once week since I’d saved her life at the Winter Palace. The foul air stunk of smoke, and I gritted my teeth and approached the wooden fortress. I gave a glance up to the sky,  _ Andruil, I need you to be with me again. _

 

After a few minutes we had fought our way to another broken and rotting pit of bodies. I crinkled my nose at the sight, if I never saw another pit like that it would be too soon. I nodded to Dorian who stepped forward to begin his complicated spell work, trusting us to guard his back as he did so. His staff moved in complicated designs, tracing unseen tunes into the air. One of the runes flashed blue and I was suddenly reminded of the pit in the Winter Palace, the burnt faces could be masks.  _ I needed to get out of Orlais.  _

A hunger demon tried to strike Dorian from his side, which snapped me out of my musing and I loosed a series of arrows at it. One of my arrows had an explosive tip, which burst a fireball over the demon's head, showering sparks onto Dorian’s shoulder. He flicked an annoyed glance at me, but didn’t hesitate in his work. 

‘Sorry!’ I called and reached behind me for another arrow.  _ Fenedhis,  _ my quiver was empty. Pausing for a second too long I considered my options.  _ It would have to be my dagger _ . Without any other choice, I dropped my bow and grabbed the dagger from my boot,  _ this was not meant for you, _ I thought venomously at the demon, before launching myself at the demon and slashing at its exposed neck. It screeched as the attack hit, black ooze bubbling out of the cut that I created. It’s hollow eyes flick to me. 

It flailed it’s overlong arms and managed to scrap a claw along the top of my bicep. I cursed and pulled back, splatting it’s tar-like blood as I did so. I flicked the knife in the air to get more of the goo off, although the extra seconds allowed it to step around me. Taller than me the demon towered around my body, I turned and struck it hard. As I did so I dodged back from the jagged claws it had for hands. My dagger stuck in the demon and it finally fell backwards, landing to the ground with a thud. It’s cold stone eyes fixed upon me, even after defeat. 

It had been enough time for Dorian’s spell to be completed and I saw the ripple of magic radiate dropping our enemies.

I let out a breath of relief, and picked my dagger out of my fallen foe, And wiping the ooze off on a little tuft of grass nearby.  _ Uggg.  _ When I righted myself again Dorian was passing his staff between his hands. ‘Be careful with those fireballs, I’m too pretty to die.’ He drawled. 

I rolled my eyes, ‘I know.’ 

His eyes flicked to my arm, which is bleeding a little. ‘You ran out of arrows.’ He added, running a hand through his hair, in an unnecessary attempt to smooth down his already immaculate hair. 

I smirked, ‘I got the job done,’ I picked up my discarded bow and slung it over my shoulder. ‘Don’t tell Cassandra.’ 

He winked at me. 

‘You’re hurt,’ Vivienne chastised, stepping over a new re-dead body to come to my side. She raised her hands over the wound, and I felt the twisting tendrils of magic stitch my flesh back together. 

 

We set up camp for the evening by the Riverside. Cassandra had hurt herself during the afternoon and Vivienne was using all of her healing knowledge to try to undo the damage. 

‘You fight hard, Seeker,’ Solas said approvingly, as he watched Vivienne work from across the campfire. 

Dorian nudged me with his knee and gave me a waggle of his eyebrows. I ignored him. 

‘We would be dead if it did not,’ Cassandra replied smartly, although she ended her sentence with a wince and scowled up at Vivienne. 

Vivienne let the look roll off her like water off a duck's back. ‘If it hurts it means it working,’ she said without stopping in her spellwork. Golden light emanating from one hand, and her other creating cooling ice to soothe the cuts and bruises. 

‘Well,’ I begin, fishing around in my pack for my last bottle of red wine. ‘Good work today,’ I pull the bottle out triumphantly, ‘small celebration?’ I asked, although I think I already know the answer. 

Dorian took my hand, ‘you are magnificent, Hellana.’ He tried to kiss my hand, a noble gesture I was sure, but his whiskers felt like beetles on my skin and I ripped my hand away. ‘Get off, you lech.’ I smirked and I received a wink in response. 

‘Celebration?’ Cassandra asked, dismayed. 

‘Liberating two fortifications, in one day is a noteworthy achievement.’ Solas replied to her reasonably, and glanced over to me with a knowing look. 

I nod and I pull the cork out with my teeth and pass the bottle around. Most of the bottle is gone before I notice the peak of a mountain on the other side of the river has an odd shape to it, too sharp, too curved. I can only make out an outline against the limited starlight, but I know in my bones exactly what is carved there.  _ A wolf.  _


	74. Ashes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Solas has had a bad dream, Lavellan does what she can to help. But then her day quickly turns into a nightmare.  
> Stone eyes are watching and the gods will be avenged.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW canon character deaths, OC character deaths.

I didn’t sleep wonderfully well, as the thought of Fen’Harel looming over the valley, watching, wasn’t the most reassuring thought. The dawn came, as dawn usually did, and I pushed myself from my bedroll. Rubbing at my eyes as I exited the tent, _how had I become the kind of person to rise at dawn?_ There was always too much to do and never enough time. And even if there was enough time, I hadn’t learned to stop worrying. I vaguely considered Cullen, who was the only person I knew who regularly did, I wondered if he carried a weight that stopped him from sleeping like me?

I sat down by the fire and began my usual morning routine of bringing the fire back to life. But the hymn to Sylaise caught in my throat, the embers were cold and dead, I poked at the pile of ash with a tentative finger, completely cold. My touch disturbed the pile and a cloud of ash drifted into the air. I frowned at the fire pit and went to fetch my pocket flint. When I returned, I created a little mound of sticks and hit the flint, but try as I might the sparks wouldn’t catch. I cursed under my breath. I sat back, annoyed that the fire wouldn’t do my bidding. I sighed and tried again with no luck. _Cold ashes_. Then the fire burst to life, blue and white. I looked up with surprise to see Solas had conjured veilfire to save me from my frustration.

I smiled, but my thanks died in my mouth as I saw his expression, ‘what’s wrong?’

He looked over to me, but it was like I was made of morning mist and his gaze passed through me. He racked a hand over his scalp. ‘I may need to ask a favour,’ he began unsteadily. ‘One of my oldest friends has been captured by mages,’ he paused to look back upstream and then he turned back to me, eyebrows knitted together and dark circles under his eyes, ‘I heard the cry for help as I slept.’

‘Right,’ I said, jumping to action. Not bothering to ask anymore questions.

 

Within a few minutes, Cassandra was awake and pulling on her sword belt, ‘I thought all your friends were spirits?’ She asked Solas, Stirling a yawn.

He nodded to her, ‘it is, my friend is a spirit of wisdom.’

Vivienne stopped her preparations and gave me a dark look, ‘spirit of demon, neither can be trusted.’

‘Viv,’ I cautioned, but was cut off by Solas.

‘It was summoned against its will and wants my help to gain its freedom and return to the fade,’ his words were quick and impatient, and the chastisement had no sting.

I glanced towards Dorian’s tent, but there were no signs of movement. I waited a heartbeat, ‘let’s go.’ I commanded with a stone in my stomach, he would be annoyed that we’d left without him.

Solas looked at me, as though seeing me for the first time that morning. ‘Thank you, Inquisitor.’ Then he turned and set off, so I buried my questions and followed.

 

I stared in horror as the pride demon flashed out of existence, to be replaced with a woman with eyes burning as green as my hand. We had stumbled across a group of three mages, lead by the most arrogant _shem,_ I had ever had the misfortune to meet. They had set up a summoning circle near the river. And trapped in the centre was a very unhappy pride demon. Vivienne had cautioned me that we probably shouldn’t be helping demons, but when I commanded the group to smash the stones she did as I bid without reservation. I had expected the demon to fade away, to blink out of existence like the rifts did when I closed them, but instead, _a woman took its place._

Solas went to her, they exchanged a few elvish words that although I caught, I didn’t understand. I saw his shoulders sag, and his head shake. Then he raised his hands and she dissolved into ash. The flecks carried away on the wind.

I looked down, uncertain if I should be watching such a deeply private moment. Vivienne was stood away from the group examining her nails, seemingly bored by the entire encounter. Cassandra on the other hand had stuck her sword into the ground and was watching with rapt interest. Her eyes flicking to the mages who had summoned and bound the spirit a couple of times to ensure that they did not intend to run away.  

After a long moment, Solas squared his shoulders, he stood and turned to me. He was looking past me again, he spoke something to himself, whispered words of Elvish, the only word I made out was _endure_.

 

I wanted to reach for him, let him know I was here, but he seemed distant in a way that was not simply about the space between. ‘All that remains now, is them.’ He said, surprising me with the abrupt switch to Trade, which sounded rough in comparison. Solas’ eyes became impossibly dark, like falling into pits and he turned that gaze on the three frightened mages.

‘Thank you,’ the arrogant _shem_ mage began, ‘we should not have risked a summoning, but the roads are too dangerous to travel unprotected…’ he audibly gulped as Solas strode towards him.

‘You tortured and killed my friend,’ Solas snapped, he raised a hand.

And from the side of one of the broken binding stones, one of my arrows had missed and lodged in the ground. It stuck up at an angle, but as he twisted his hand, the arrow jumped back from the ground and flew to his command. Sickening slowly, the arrow swum through the air. Solas twitched his fingers and the arrow slipped through the neck of the

dark haired man. _I had never seen magic like it_. I saw Vivienne looked up suddenly, her hand dropping to her side.

The mage behind him gasped in horror, but the sound turned into a gurgle as the arrow perforated her neck. The last man standing took two paces backwards before he too succumbed to Solas’ arrow.

I took a step back myself, a twisting knot in my stomach at what I had just witnessed. And a heartbeat later, the three bodies were consumed in veilfire till there was nothing, but ash left. _More ash, scattering to the wind._

He turned back to me, ‘I need some time alone,’ he whispered. I nodded and was gone. Fade stepping away in a flash of green.

My hand reached out instinctively to the spot where he’d been, but he was gone. _Just like that._

 

Without a word to Vivienne and Cassandra I trudged, numbly, back to camp. Vivienne kept glancing backward, she was unsettled. And I couldn’t say I felt any better. Back to the camp, my eyes flicked up to the Wolf overlooking the valley. Solas’s friend had been betrayed, _we needed to leave._

Dorian greeted us, a little put out that we’d left him. He frowned, eyes flicking between us making a mental count. ‘Where did you leave Solas?’ When no one spoke for a moment, he added, ‘not that I object.’

I sat down by the extinguished firepit, cold and empty. Uncertain what to say, how I could explain. Vivienne took my side and tapped my hand reassuringly. It was the closest she got to a hug.

Cassandra however shrugged off her sword belt, laying the blade down at the entrance of her tent and she began pacing back and forwards. ‘He left,’ she threw her hands up in the air, ‘just left.’ Within a minute an entire tirade of anger had fallen from her lips, questioning everything from Solas’ loyalty to her own judge of character. I took a breath to interpret her, to defend him somehow, but Vivienne shook her head at me. It was never a good idea to draw Cassandra’s ire.

Dorian glanced back at Vivienne and I, wide-eyed at the unexpected turn of events. ‘She’s taking it very well,’ he muttered under his breath.

‘What was that?’ Cassandra demanded spinning on her heels to face the mage.

Dorian raised his hands, and Cassandra made a disgusted noise. ‘Traitor,’ she spat onto the ground.

‘Cassandra,’ I snapped, unable to keep silent. ‘I let him go, he’ll be back.’ I said with more confidence than I felt. _I didn’t know if he would be back._ It wasn’t like we’d had a long conversation about it.

‘And if he does not?’

I didn’t answer her _._ I shifted uncomfortably in my place, _I didn’t know what he would do._ The deaths of the mages at his hands had shocked me, the deadly efficiently used against vastly inferior opponents was not what I would have predicted. He was always so uncompromisingly desperate to prevent wasted life, and yet he’d snuffed three mages out because of their stupidity. I rubbed at my eyes, _maybe I really didn’t know him that well at all._

Vivienne tapped my hand again, and had opened her mouth to speak. But never got the chance, a green and brown clothed Inquisition Agent came running into view. Red-faced and hair plastered to her face with sweat. Vivienne gave her an unimpressed glance, but didn’t comment further.

‘Your Worship,’ the woman called. She dropped to her knees before me and held out a small envelope. ‘News,’ she gasped, ‘Josephine.’

‘Rest, rest,’ Dorian cooed, on his feet and guiding her to sit and he passed her a waterskin which she took thankfully.

I turned the little note over in my hands, it had Josephine’s seal. I cracked it open and there was another note wrapped inside the first one. I scanned the page,

 

_Hellana,_

_I am so sorry,_

_Josephine._

My mouth went dry. The second note had a damaged seal on it that I didn’t recognise. Red wax that had already been broken. I unfolded it,

 

_Ambassador Montilyet,_

_I regret that my help for your Dalish allies came too late to be of use. By the time my forces arrived in the area, the Dalish had been scattered or killed, all that remains of their camp is ash._ _I understand your Inquisitor must be feeling the loss of her clan. Please accept these gifts and my promise of future help whenever it is necessary._

_Yours,  
Duke Antoine of Wycome_

I stared at the page blankly and re-read the words. And then again. They didn’t make any sense. _Loss of her clan,_ what in Sylaise’s sweet name was that supposed to mean?

I stared at the firepit in utter horror. _Sylaise, sweet Sylaise, I had desecrated her shrine and now she had taken my hearth from me_. I could almost picture the goddess, in a fit of vengeance turning Wisdom to ash and burning my clan to the ground. I glanced warily up at the open sky. _Fuck._ They were meant to be coming to Skyhold, Deshanna had written to me. _Hadn’t she_ -

I passed the notes to Vivienne and walked over to the wide river, flowing cool and crisp. I splashed the water on my face, to wake myself up from this dream. I would wake up, any minute and I would have found that I’d slept in, I would have finally slept in for one. This was a nightmare. Behind me I heard Vivienne gasp and the rustle of paper as the note was passed between them. Quiet whispers echoed dully behind me as they discussed the news.  

Vivienne approached, ‘there is a chance,’ she began.

‘Do not fill her head with false hope,’ Cassandra snapped.

Vivienne retorted, but the words were foggy. Everything was smoke and ash. The air in the Dales was thick with the stentch of burning buildings, in my Dalish pride, I had considered it a good thing. A punishment for the _shem_ that dared to take our land. I hadn’t realised I was on my knees retching up bile. Until I sat back, with a hand to my mouth, and my eyes found the Wolf on the mountain side. I raised my open palms to the mountain.

Fen’Harel, I have been betrayed _._  
Fen’Harel, I invoke you, I call you.  
Fen’Harel, hear me, avenge me.


	75. The Hand that is Dealt

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Between leaving the Exalted Plains and getting back to Skyhold, Lavellan had some time to think about everything that has happened. About everything that could happen, and where she really wants to be.

_My cousin Sil sat cross legged in front of me on a woven red mat, in the shade of a great painted tree. His shock of bright white was pushed out of his face with a careless hand. He held up a deck of cards to me, ‘sure you want to know.’_

_I nodded._

_‘Knock,’ he commanded, holding the deck out between us. Playing side down, except these were no ordinary deck._

_I reached out an uncertain hand, normally I found his foresight was half blind. But I had been selected to leave the clan and travel halfway across the continent, forewarned was forearmed. I knocked four times on the top of the deck._

_He pulled the deck back to his body, and began shuffling, ‘tell me when to stop.’ He said quietly, his words twisted the pale turquoise flame that marked his left eye._

_I waited a few heartbeats and then nodded._

_He met my eyes and winked, ‘don’t look so grim, Els.’ Then he pulled the first card from the top and laid it between us. He frowned, which filled me with confidence._

The Hanged Hare _, was written on top of a black-bordered card, with a crude sketch of a white hare hung by the back paw. Its eyes were glazed over, and I couldn’t stop staring at the dead white eyes. ‘Interesting,’ Sil muttered under his breath and drew another card. But I put my hand over it before I could see._

_‘Stop.’_

_Sil looked at me, ‘it’s good card, he shrugged. Wisdom, knowledge, since that is your mission-‘_

_‘Wisdom and knowledge in exchange for a sacrifice. Sacrifice to Andruil, Sil.’_

_He shrugged as though the idea didn’t bother him in the slightest. ‘Sure that you don’t want the next card?’_

_I paused for a second,_ be brave little hare, _I thought silently praying the Hanged Hare was metaphorical rather than a literal depiction of my future, ‘show me.’_

 _Sil flicked the card over with a careless gesture._ Nine of swords, _the card showed a man sat up in bed with nine swords hung over his head. I raised an eyebrow. ‘It means Nightmare.’_

_‘What?’ I gasped. That wasn’t good at all._

_He shook his head, ‘waking up from a Nightmare, not as bad as you think.’ He smirked and wagged a finger between the two cards, ‘not as bad as you think.’ He repeated as though he was a sort of mystic. Then he drew a third card, which I glanced down at apprehensively._ Ace of Arrows. _Sil snorted at that, and he rapped his own knuckles on the deck, ‘they’re being cheeky tonight,’ he said a touch displeased. He sat back, placing a hand on his knee, elbow stuck out as though he was trying to sass the cards back._

_‘Ace of Arrows?’_

_He set the deck down to his right and waggled his hands in the air, a broad cat-like grin spread across his face, ‘it appears you’re going on a journey. Straight and true, you couldn’t avoid it even if you wanted.’_

_‘Oh,’ I picked up the card, which was decorated with the sketch of a single wooden arrow. ‘Useful.’_

* * *

 

It had been two weeks. Two weeks since the damned letter hand been placed in my hand to tell me my clan was scattered. It had been two weeks since Madame de Fer had pulled me aside and told me that the night she’d been recruited to the Inquisitor, she’d called in all her favours from the various Free Marches circles, including Wycome with a single objective. _To protect my clan._ Her words were driftwood, but I was drowning, and I took anything to keep myself afloat. That evening I had sat vigil all evening by the fire, feeding the flame and praying, begging forgiveness of Sylaise.

Each night since, I had been foolishly expecting Solas to appear in a dream, but I knew realistically that he wouldn’t. I was the one who had asked him not to turn up without permission. I wished I could see him again, apologise, since I had no desecrated Sylaise’s shrine by myself, I had known that I needed to fix the breakage. I had known better, I had let him tempt me, and now the goddess turned her wrath to the both of us.

The uncertainty picked at me like a mason working she way around a block of limestone, I knew nothing for certain, my only option was to pack up all my pain and bury it. I decided I would not build a marker until I knew for certain what had happened to my clan. Which meant, I would not break down till I knew.

If they were safe then I would bring them to Skyhold, protect them behind my _shem_ castle walls. If they were not, I’d take the Inquisitions gold, I’d buy a ship and sail into the Amaranthine Ocean. _We divide into Clans, so one great calamity cannot destroy us once and for all,_ Dirthanna had told me once, but they wrong empty in my memory. The Dalish would endure, but the Dalish didn’t need me – a lost hunter with embroiled in the _shem_ world.

 _Dehnan,_ I thought with a jolt, he didn’t know. I rubbed at my eyes in frustration, I couldn’t leave. Not if there were two of us. It would take both of us to face the _Arlathvhen,_ to stand before the gathering of Keepers from every clan and ask for Lavellan to be kept alive. If my clan was gone, the name would endure with new faces and new mages to bolster the ranks. We would be remade, we would endure, but we wouldn’t be same. I tugged at the woven bracelet at my wrist, I knew it my bones it was no longer the rope to bring me back home. Whatever had happened home was gone, the _aravals_ burned, the halla butchered under _shem_ swords. _It was my fault_. I had taken the Hunter’s luck, woven and wrapped around my wrist. It had been meant to bring me victories while I was away, but I had brought the clan only suffering and loss.  

I rolled from my bedroll and pushed myself into a crawl. No use brooding all day. I tugged my armour. With any luck, and if the weather held, we would be back to Skyhold before nightfall. I glanced at the bracelet again, _I had been ridiculously lucky,_ I thought bitterly.

 

When I exited the tent, Cassandra gave me a kindly smile and pressed a streaming cup of elfroot into my hands as she had begun to do in the mornings. It numbed some of the pain and I was grateful for it. The last two weeks had changed her reaction to me. And I saw the shift in her eyes, I was finally breaking out from her prisoner, the woman who had to be forced to take every step along a path she didn’t want to tread; to become someone who had a stake in the outcomes of the Inquisition, someone who had something to loose, to truly become her Inquisitor. I had seemingly transformed in front of her, to become more of who she wanted me to be. Although I found the reaction wasn’t entirely one sided, the stake white eye on her armour still watched me, but I found an odd sort of comfort in being in Andruil’s sight. Andruil’s orb had touched me, and I was her arrow, being thrown blindly forward.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Based on the cards, The Hanged Man, the Nine of Swords and the Ace of Wands.


	76. Prisoner

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Numbed, Lavellan stumbled across a doorway in Skyhold that she's never seen before, she finds a staircase into the bowels of the mountain. Trapped in the darkness is someone she had forgotten about. Can she free them, and herself in the process?

Skyhold was unnaturally quiet, the tavern doubly so. Sera, Blackwall, Varric and Bull had yet to return from their mission in search of the Grey Wardens and the Chargers had been dispatched to try to track any survivors of my clan, and to investigate what had happened. I left the building and took the little hipflask out of my jacket pocket, it was filled with elfroot potion. I took a drag, it helped. The cold liquid spread down my throat, leaving a trail of numbness in its path. In the courtyard I could see Vivienne through her balcony window, she was writing at her desk and didn’t want to disturb her.

‘You’re too bright, like counting birds against the sun. When you drink it, you fade.’ Said a soft voice behind me.

I turned around to see the lanky youth, face hidden with a broad hat, ‘Cole.’ I said a little uncertain and took another sip of the elfroot.

‘No, no, being numb won’t bring them back.’ He added, voice going higher in desperation.

I looked away, ‘I know.’ My hand tightened on the little hipflask, I gritted my teeth together. _I wanted the numbness, but he was right._ I put the lid back on a slid it back into my pocket. When I looked up Cole had gone. I sighed, and pulled a hand through my hair, twisting it together and pulling it over one shoulder. _I wanted to hit something._ I turned away from the main building and ventured over to the area of the courtyard given over to practise dummies. It was Cassandra’s usual haunt, yet when I got there she was nowhere to be found. I frowned, but approached the door where her quarters were, maybe I could coax her out with the promise of giving me a few bruises.  

I pushed through the wooden door, to find that I was not in the right place at all, but I kept going anyway. If I hadn’t been so numb, I would have considered it curiosity that drove me forward, but in all honestly I couldn’t say why I didn’t turn on my heel and leave the dark corridor’s secrets alone.

Steps lead down into the mountain and the walls became chilled as I took each careful step down, I glanced behind me. The echo on the stone may it sound like someone was behind me, but there was no one. I could hear a dull roar at the bottom of the staircase which I couldn't place. I continued with my descent.

Eventually I came to another wooden door, I pushed through to find the chill of the mountain air hit me. The room was lit with touchlight and curved around in a horseshoe shape, leaving a gaping hole in the side. I blinked at the oddness of the room but was distracted when I heard a noise from my left.

I turned, and a woman sat with her knees up ushered me over. She was an elf, wrapped in the typical green and oranges of a Dalish scout. I stepped closer and I could see her maroon _vallaslin._ She eyed me and I saw her eyes flick to my own forehead and her face relaxed. ‘Thank the Creators, spring me, would you?’ She pulled herself around onto her knees and I realised with a jolt she was behind metal bars.

I glanced around, I was in some kind of dungeon. ‘How did you get here?’ I asked.

‘No time, the guard will be back any minute.’ She hissed, beckoning me closer again.

I stepped up to the bars but couldn’t seem to find anyway to unlock the door without a key. She sighed in frustration at my failed efforts and dropped herself back down onto the floor with a clunk.

‘Hey, get away from there!’ Another woman shouted from behind me. Without meaning to, I took a step back. ‘That one’s dangerous, bit the ear off the sorry bastard who brought her in.’

I gave the Dalish a woman a look and she grinned at me with wild smile of confirmation. I turned to the guard, who saw my _vallaslin,_ and her hand immediately went to the blade at her hip, ‘what are you doing here?’ She hissed.

I looked at her curiously, ‘why is she locked up?’ I asked, numb to the danger I was in.

The guard spat on the ground, ‘Andraste’s arse, who do you think you are?’

I raised my left hand, which glowed green in response, the guard paled. ‘Your worship,’ she stammered, her hand dropping away from her weapon. At the same time, the woman behind bars swore.

‘Why is she locked up?’ I repeated far more calmly than I felt. Something burned deep i the pit of my stomach, fighting trying to get out, something that the elfroot had stifled.

The guard backed up a little and groped at a collection of papers on a desk in a little nock. She glanced at them, finding the right forms and handed them to me.

I took them, skim reading the document. ‘This says she was captured on my orders,’ I said, ‘I do not recall giving these orders, bring me the key.’

The guard stood, flummoxed for a second, ‘but your worship,’ she began.

I gave her a look and continued reading. Then I found her name, _Mihris, one of Briala’s people_. I spun around to the Dalish woman, ‘Mihris?’

She gave me a cold stare, but the slight tilt of her head confirmed her identity. I glanced down at the paperwork again, then turned to guard. ‘Bring me key, then bring me Leliana.’ I snapped.

Two heartbeats passed before the woman snapped her heels and did as she was bid.

Mihris gave me a scrutinising look. Then raised her chin to me, ‘what do you want?’

I knelt to her, so we were level, ‘ _ir abalas, lethallan,_ please forgive me. I wanted to speak with you, not have you captured.’

Tight lipped, Mihris, tilted her hand again just so slightly. ‘Captured as funny word for it, dragged from the Hinterlands by two of the Nightingale’s little birds more like.’

I closed my eyes, _Leliana what have you done?_ I looked up as a large wrought iron key was placed into my hands. ‘I have sent a runner for Mistress Leliana.’

I unlocked the door for Mihris, who glanced me over for a second, and I thought she was about to bolt. ‘Please, I said with a hand in front of her. You are not my prisoner, and you’re free to go if you wish. I had a few questions about Briala, but I understand-.’

‘Briala?’ She asked, drawing herself up and crossed her arms across her chest, she narrowed her eyes, ‘the thief?’

I blinked. ‘Thief?’

‘She took the _eluvian_ network for herself, _for the flat-ears_.’

I stood dumbfounded, ‘ _eluvians_ are myths-.’

Mihris shook her head, ‘no they’re not, and Briala had a network to herself.’

I put a hand across my mouth, I rubbed at my eyes, wishing I could scrub away the elfroot that clouded my mind. Had Briala mentioned a network, I couldn’t remember.

‘Will you let me go now?’ She asked stiffly.

I nodded, ‘what do you need, a mount? Food, coin? Do you know where your clan is?’

Mihris gave me a cold look, ‘I carry clan Virnehn with me. And I don’t want your gold.’

Her words cut through me, _she was alone._ My bones turned cold. ‘You’re welcome to stay, as my honoured guest.’

‘I have no interest in your _shem_ walls.’ She retorted, though she softened a little. ‘I’ll take your bread.’

I nodded.

‘Inquisitor?’

I spun around to find Leliana at the bottom of the stairs, she glanced behind me at Mihris wouldn’t a hint of recognition and I felt a spark of fury burn through the numbness. ‘Leliana, let me make something abundantly clear.’

Leliana raised an eyebrow at my tone of voice.

‘The Dalish are my allies, if I ever find you have imprisoned one again-,’ I broke off, not sure what I could threaten her with. I doubted I had anything, _anything but me_ , ‘I’ll leave.’ I said simply after a heartbeat.

Leliana’s face remained a mask, but her eyes flicked to Mihris again. ‘This one injured one of my men.’ She replied softly.

I shrugged, ‘she was a guest, not a prisoner. You man should not have tried to take her.’

Leliana blinked unhappily, ‘we needed more information.’

‘Not at any cost.’ I replied simply. Holding Leliana’s gaze for a long moment, when she didn’t blink, I kept my gaze steady. I held it until my eyes ached, but then finally she accepted defeat and nodded.

‘It will not happen again,’ she said softly.

I gave Leliana a grim smile and turned back to Mihris, who was watching me like a falcon watches a mouse. I tilted my head towards the stairs and lead her up and out into the open air.

 

It took about twenty minutes to get Mihris all the supplies that she needed for at least three weeks travel, which she slung onto Betsie. Giving her my horse seemed like the least I could do to make recompense, that and an inquisitorial writ enduring the she would get no further trouble from any inquisition agents.

Mihris took my hands in hers and pulled us together so that our hands rested between our _vallaslin._ ‘I will remember this,’ she said evenly in a tone that had me doubting if that was a good thing or not. Then she dropped my hands like they burnt her, swung onto Betsie’s back and rode away into the night. As I watched her go, my hands drifted to the hipflask with elfroot. I brought it up to my lips but reconsidered and poured the contents on the ground.


	77. Placating Rumours

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> If she's going to be the Inquisitor, the Inquisition is going to have to be something that Lavellan stands for. She spends some time placating rumours and gods alike.

Standing in the main room of the keep was an odd experience in and of itself. On my way from my room to Josephine’s office, I overheard a conversation between two men, Fereldan nobles I guessed from their dress.

‘But did you see her dress?’ The first one asked, he was shorter and thinner than his companion. ‘Her,’ he waved his hand over his chest, ‘spilling out,’ he raised an eyebrow.

The second man pulled a face, ‘I did, apparently the Empress sent her, can you imagine if all the women of court dressed like that?’

‘It would certainly be a sight,’ the first replied with a snort. ‘I heard she brought a mirror with her, about the size of that window,’ he said pointed at the great glazed window behind the throne.

The second man scratched the back of his neck, ‘Orlesian vanity.’ He scoffed and his eyes flicked to me for a moment, but then passed over me as though I was hardly worth any notice.

 

I continued to Josephine’s office, a slight smile on my face at everyone’s seeming inability to recognise their own inquisitor. I wondered if anyone would be able to tell the difference if I was replaced by a Qunari. _I would have to do something about that_.

I pushed through the first door and paused in the archway leading to her office. Mother Giselle was settled on the sofa in front of the fire and Josephine was at her desk, half buried in an unending pile of paperwork. I noticed a third figure almost hidden in shadow in the corner of the room. As the door closed behind me, Mother Giselle twisted her head to see me. _Maybe her hat was glued on?_ She gave me a small smile and beckoned me over. ‘Herald, it is good to see you.’

The figure in the shadow, stepped into the light, Loranil. My mouth went dry at the sight of him, he gave me a nod. His eyes flicked to Josephine and then to Mother Giselle. He did not look happy. _Something was wrong._

‘Mother Giselle,’ I smiled, as pleasantly as I could.

Josephine laid her quill down and looked up from her work, ‘it would appear that every faction in Thedas is spreading rumours about you. Some less tasteful than others.’

 _That was putting it lightly._ I nodded, taking the free seat by Mother Giselle.

‘I think we should install a chantry within these walls, a beacon for the faithful.’ Giselle said, shifting slightly to face me directly.

I coughed, ‘absolutely not.’ I replied without thinking.

Mother Giselle straightened a tight look on her face, but I noticed Loranil bury a smirk. ‘The Herald of Andraste should hardly-,’ Giselle began.

‘Ghilan’nain,’ Loranil interrupted, but it was more as though the words broke out of him, and then his eyes went wide as he realised what he’d said, and he bit his lip.

My eyes flicked to him, ‘no, _don’t_ do that either.’ _Last thing I needed was being given to more gods without my consent._

Mother Giselle looked to the elf, hidden behind her hat I couldn’t see her expression, but Loranil looked away quickly. Then she turned back to me, ‘building a chantry would placate any rumours of you being a heretic.’ She snapped. ‘Or as the Orlesians are calling you,’ she sighed obviously annoyed, ‘the lesser Bride.’ 

I looked to Josephine, ‘Josie?’ I asked, looking for some kind of rational view, any other option.

Josephine looked down and shuffled some papers, then looked up at me, ‘a chantry wouldn’t hurt.’ _Coward._

I rubbed my eyes, it appeared that Giselle had bullied everyone in the room to her point of view and asking me was more of a formality. But then I realised of course, _Giselle was right_. I sat up, ‘yes. Build a chantry on the grounds, Mother Giselle, I will leave it in your care. Josephine, will you organise a suitable budget?’

Mother Giselle stood a victorious smile playing across her face and smoothed out her skirts. Her hat tipped back at a precarious angle and I was quite sure it was going to fall. _It appeared the Maker moved in mysterious ways, as it did not fall._ She dipped her head to me, about to leave the room.

‘Oh, Mother Giselle,’ I said, catching her just before left. She stopped, to turn back to me, ‘I do expect when I build a shrine to my gods, I will hear no complaint from you?’ _A shrine would placate the Dalish equally as well_.

It was as though I’d thrown a bucket of ice water over her, the victorious smile washed off her face and she opened her mouth to protest.

‘That does seem fair,’ Josephine acknowledged, but didn’t meet Giselle’s eyes.

She flashed a murderous look to Josephine but turned her gaze back on me. _Try me, I have nothing to lose._ After a long heartbeat, she gave me a curt nod and swept from the room.

Loranil twisted his hands in front of him and looked almost fit to burst with excitement.

Josephine however looked less than impressed with my skilful mastery of _the game._ ‘It probably isn’t wise to provoke her,’ she began.

I shrugged and toyed with the bracelet on my wrist, _I’d make a shrine the match of her chantry._ ‘There are at least thirty, maybe forty elves who keep to the old faith, I am simply being fair.’

Josephine considered for a moment, then nodded. ‘Speaking of elves, I heard from Leliana what happened last night.’

I twisted my fingers together, ‘if there are any more Dalish prisoners hidden around, you should probably tell me now, I’m out of horses.’

Josephine pursed her lips together, ‘there are not, but you shouldn’t have been so generous.’

I laughed and shrugged as though the entire affair was of no consequence. ‘We falsely imprisoned _Briala’s_ ally, it is hardly the impression we want to send. What if it got back to Briala, what if it got back to Celene?’ It was technically a lie, Mihris had hardly seemed enamoured by Briala, but it might be easier for the _shem_ to accept my actions, if they thought I was merely playing _the game_. ‘I am sorry if Leliana’s pride was wounded, but I couldn’t let the woman leave thinking that was how we treated our allies.’

She blinked at me and then scribbled something down on a piece of paper, ‘I understand,’ she smiled broadly. ‘I will explain to Leliana.’ And then she looked back down as though I was dismissed. I glanced to Loranil, he was watching rapt.

‘If we can go back to the topic of being fair,’ I continued and Josephine looked back up, regarding me curiously. ‘How much are the elves here being paid?’

Josephine squinted at me for a second, and then fished through her piles of papers, ‘Orlesian standard, three fifths normal wages.’

I steeled my gaze, ‘normal wages?’

She cleared her throat, but didn’t look at me, ‘human wages,’ she corrected.

‘Does that sound fair?’ I asked. _The second night in Skyhold I had sworn to Falon’Din I would help the elves here, I was going to damn well try._

She opened her mouth, and then closed it again. ‘What do you propose?’

‘Equal to human wages, dwarves as well.’

She shook her head as though I’d proposed giving the elves one of the moons. ‘We don’t have the gold.’

I tilted my head, ‘and yet we paid for those lavish outfits for the Winter Palace. Write to whoever you usually write to. Cut my wages, I don’t care, make it happen.’

‘Hellana, this is unheard of,’ Josephine began, then she paused, and a sweet smile spread across her face, ‘Maker’s mercy,’ she breathed as though struck by divine inspiration. ‘I will get it done.’ She promised me. Loranil exchanged a glance with me. _Remarkably easy._

‘Thank you, Josephine.’

I stood about to leave when she looked up again, ‘ah, and the Lady Morrigan arrived this morning.’

I grimaced, _wonderful._


	78. Unexpected Arrival

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After an eventful morning, Lavellan retreats to her room to brood, but is interrupted by an unexpected visitor, bringing good and bad news with them.

I retreated back to my quarters around midday, the morning too full of excitement and I found myself doubting every one of my actions. I sat on the edge of my bed, feeling like a coil of rope was wrapped around my waist. I wanted to pull it tighter, _tighter_ to get myself back into control. I swallowed hard, feeling sick. Unwelcome panic bubbling up under my skin, I lay back. _They would definitely burn me, after that stunt._ I worried the woven bracelet around my wrist, in a castle surrounded by people and so utterly alone. I glanced to the balcony door but didn’t dare approach. _The gods didn’t need to see me like this,_ I thought.

 

 _Be brave, little hare,_ Deshanna’s voice told voice me from what seemed like the previous age. I rubbed at my eyes and tried to picture my mother. A short woman, with thick tightly curled black hair, fading to grey the last time I’d seen her. I could almost picture her staff strung with turquoise beads around the top, the teal patched Keeper’s robes she wore and the sylvan-wood ring she twisted on her finger when she thought. _Would I ever see her again?_

 

I looked up as a person appeared at the top of the stairs, I rubbed at my eyes not quite believing they were real. Honey-brown eyes under cropped blonde hair, ‘Sera?’ I breathed.

‘Your ladybits,’ she mock curtsied to me, pulling out her red tunic as though it was an Orlesian gown. And seemingly skipped over, ‘we got good news and bad new, right?’ She dropped down onto the bed beside me, looked me over twice and pulled me into a lung-crushingly tight hug, ‘rough day?’

I tried to smile, but it felt like a cracked lie spreading across my face, ‘rough month.’ I replied.

‘I heard some things,’ she winked at me. ‘Saucy things.’

‘ _Creators_ ,’ I breathed, rubbing my eyes.

She wrinkled her nose at that, but thankfully didn’t say anything more on the topic. She paused tapping her tongue, making a clicking noise, ‘the good news then?’ she offered.

I nodded welcoming the distraction, _anything to get me out of my own head_.

Sera eyed me, and pulled her leg up onto the bed wrapping her arms around it, tapping it a little impatiently as she did so, ‘I’m dry, you look dry, tavern?’

I leant back and pointed my arm out to my bookcase, ‘large green tome.’ _I was almost proud I’d managed to keep my secret supply from her for over a month._

She narrowed her eyes at me, then jumped up and bounded off towards the bookcase. She managed to pull two handful of books before she found the one which hid my secret brandy supply. _Her little exclamation of joy was worth sacrificing my brandy._  ‘Inky,’ she began bounding back over and planting a kiss on the top of my hair and looking at the bottle like it was her first-born child. ‘I could kiss you!’

‘You already did!’ I exclaimed, ‘give me that,’ I laughed and snatched the bottle from her and then froze, _I laughed._

‘What?’ She eyed me curiously, before bending over at the waist to get a better look at my face. Then she waved a hand in front of my face, leaving me to pull my neck back away from her, ‘pissing ponces broke my inky _.’_ She snarled into the air.

I glanced up, but I found my mouth dry. _I didn’t want to put the words into the air._ I bit my lip, took a steading breath, ‘my clan got attacked.’ I said eventually.

Sera whistled out a breath and plopped down next to me again, she wrapped an arm around my shoulder, nudging against my neck with her head, ‘who did it?’

I shrugged, and my eyes went blurry. _Great, now the gods have blinded me,_ I thought venomously before realised with a stunned shock that I was just crying. _Fenedhis._ ‘All I know is the camp was burnt, I don’t know if anyone survived.’

‘Fuck,’ Sera muttered.

‘Fuck, indeed.’ I agreed. Then I pulled the cork off the bottle and took a swig. _It was better than the elfroot potion._ The fire burned down my throat. I passed the bottle to her.

She took it with a small salute. And then she sighed, ‘good news we got you a proper elfy friend.’

I turned to her and raised an eyebrow. ‘Elfy friend?’ I queried, about to remind her that she was in fact an elf but bit the words back.

‘Varric brought his friend back,’ she waved her arms as though to illustrate her point, ‘the one from Kirkwall that did all that stuff. Her girlfriend wouldn’t stay put, she’s all face-y, talks weird too.’

I blinked at not really understand what she was saying. ‘Varric’s friend?’ I squinted at her, I thought they gone to track down the Grey Wardens?

‘The bird girl, falcon or hawk or whatever, she fought Cor-iffy-tits before. Thinks she has a lead on where the Wardens pissed off to.’

‘Wait, bird girl?’ I clarified, completely lost in the sea of Sera’s half useless explanations.

‘The, like, champion lady, Varric ripped off her life in his book.’ Sera shrugged picking at a speck of dirt on the back of her hand.

I rubbed at my eyes, ‘are you telling me that Varric’s brought Hawke, the champion of Kirkwall to Skyhold?’

Sera nodded, ‘yes,’ but very dramatically she put a finger over her mouth and shhh-ed me, doing her best to look conspiratorial, ‘but we can’t tell Cassandra.’

‘Why?’

Sera shrugged again, ‘Fancy-pants Cass hates her or something. They’re up in that broken-down tower on the battlements, I was sent over to get you.’

I sighed and pulled myself to my feet, no rest for the wicked. Then I paused, ‘what’s the bad news?’

Sera screwed up her nose, ‘she wants to meet up with a warden buddy up in Crestwood, have you ever been?’

I shook my head, ‘can’t say I’ve had the pleasure.’

‘It’s _shite_.’


	79. Birdie and Daisy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sera drags Lavellan off to meet Varric's friends in the abandoned tower. For a rogue, Sera is surprisingly unstealthy.

I let Sera lead me down the stairs and through the main hall of the keep, cutting through the Rotunda to get to the battlements in an attempt to avoid Cassandra. Sera threw me a look when she found the room empty, ‘where’s he pissed off to?’

The answer caught in my throat, but I was saved from answering when I heard a creak on the wooden railing. I glanced up to see Dorian was peering over, ‘when did you get back?’ He called.

And from the floor above I saw the purple-hooded Leliana lean over the railing in the rookery.

Sera glanced at me, ‘piss,’ she swore, ‘we’re supposed to be being subtle.’

‘There’s nothing subtle about you, Sera, my dear.’ Vivienne said, appearing from the doorway that led to her balcony.

Sera screwed up her face, blushed red, ‘arse-balls.’ She hissed and grabbed my hand, dragging me off towards the battlements.

I tried to stop her, to remind her that the pathway she’d chosen would lead her directly into Cullen’s office, but when I spoke she cut me off. ‘No time,’ she hissed.

She rocked through the wooden door, and drew up short so I tumbled into the back of her. The momentum had both of us stumbling forward and Sera only just managed to stop herself before she was barrelled straight into Cullen’s desk. ‘Shit!’ She exclaimed as she stood up to face the blond man. Blinking at him as though the action might make his disappear.

Cullen grunted half in surprise and half in frustration, ‘Sera? What are you- Inquisitor?’ He asked peering behind her.

‘We’re passing through,’ I said apologetically, nodding to the door to the right.

He looked the two of us up and down. But we were interrupted by a breathless Dorian appearing behind us in the doorway. ‘What’s going on?’ He asked.

Sera looked between the two men helplessly and scowled, ‘come on.’

‘Give me a minute,’ Cullen said quickly as he pulled his fur lined cape around his shoulders. Dorian shot him a scathing look, which Cullen appeared to ignore, but tell-tale red splotchs began to crawl up Cullen’s neck.

Sera however had no desire to wait on the whims of the Commander of the Inquisition’s forces and barged through the door to the right, with all of the force of a tempest in a bottle, dragging me along behind her.

We stopped just short of the door to the broken down tower, Sera released me from her grip and used her arms to present the door to me. I nodded, rubbing the ache from my knuckles after begin dragged halfway across the castle by then.

I pushed opened the door cautiously. Entering the broken-down tower. I saw Varric stood leaning on the back of a chair, Bianca resting across the seat. He looked up and a broad smile, ‘good you got her- Maker’s balls Sera! You weren’t supposed to bring the whole Inquisition.’ He chastised seeing Cullen and Dorian behind us.

Sera thrust her hands in the air, ‘blurgggg,’ she gave my way of response.

Bull chucked to his right, half sitting half crouching on an upturned barrel. He seemed larger than I remembered. He looked up to me with his one eyes, ‘Krem sent me a message, I’m sorry.’ I pursued my lips together and nodded my thanks.

Next to him, stood sharp as a sword was Blackwall, looking a lot rougher than the last time I’d seen him. His eyes were dark lined, and I wondered if he’d been sleeping at all. He scratched at his beard and nodded to me.

To the side of him stood a dark-haired woman that I didn’t know, she had sparkling blue eyes and braided hair wrapped up in a tight bun. I thought she might have cut her face as there was a streak of blood over her nose. Tucked behind her was elven woman, dressed in some mismatch of old Dalish scout armour and a human-sized tunic, belted around her waist. My eyes dropped to see her arm linked through the dark-haired woman’s. Her eyes looked me up and down and I noticed that even for an elf, her eyes were round and large giving her a soft childlike look. I schooled my features as I didn’t immediately recognise her _vallaslin,_ to stop myself from staring to try to work it out.

‘This is Birdie and Daisy,’ Varric introduced though in such a way that I couldn’t quite tell which was supposed to be which. _Neither was a Dalish name that was for certain_.

' _Mythal enaste_ ,' She smiled, 'your introductions are terrible,' The Dalish woman scoffed playfully at Varric and stepped towards me, offering me her hands. I noticed her fingernails were crusted with dried blood, ‘ _Aneth ara,’_ the greeting I caught, but then she spoke a few more sentences in elvish. with practised ease.  Sentences what passed over my like a waterfall passes over rocks.

I gave her a nervous laugh, with my eyes wide and cheeks coloured with shame, I took her hands, ‘ _ir abelas,_ our clan has lost most of our remember of the old tongue.’ I confessed.

Her smile faultered for the barest of moments, but her eyes remained tight, ‘I’m Merrill. It’s good to meet you.’ _I noted that she didn’t give her clan name, maybe she’d been warned by Bull. She also hadn’t translated everything she had said._ Around her neck, on a chain was a slyvanwood ring. _Was she a Keeper?_

‘Hellana,’ I replied in kind, a heartbeat later and stepped forward to take her hands. As I did so I heard Sera make a rude noise behind us, which made me smile and shake my head. Then I drew up Merrill's hand between our foreheads, ‘you too.’

The human woman stepped forward and Merrill drew back, ‘Marina Hawke,’ she held out a hand in the _shem_ way. ‘You might have heard of me,’ she said with a wink.

I nodded, ‘it’s good to meet you,’ I twisted back, ‘this is Dorian and Cull-.’

‘We’ve met,’ Cullen said sulkily, and crossed his arms across his chest, puffing himself a little. I couldn’t tell if he was intimated or trying to impress.

Marina's eyes flashed back to Cullen, leisurely examining him, ‘ahh, I remember you, Knight-Captain,’ Marina said with a smirk.

‘It’s Commander now, I’m not with the Templars anymore.’ His words were icy.

‘Good,’ she nodded, smirk still in place. ‘Maybe you’ll finally be some fun.’

Dorian chortled at her words, but Cullen merely gritted his teeth. He nodded back but twisted away, stalking back to his office. When he was gone, Marina laughed, ‘kept trying to arrest me, didn’t go too well.’

Varric laughed, giving the woman a rueful smile. ‘He also saved your head, if I’m not mistaken.’

Marina pulled a face in response.

‘Your head’s very good, don't want to lose it,’ Merrill added.

The odd wording of her statement meant that there was an awkward silence for a couple heartbeats, Merrill squinted her eyes as though she couldn’t work it out. While Sera barked out a laugh and bent over at the waist. She drew herself up, wiping an invisible tear from her eye. 

‘Did I say something wrong _ma vehnan_?’ Merrill asked Marina, who only smiled and pulled her close dropping a kiss on her.

After a couple more heartbeats, Dorian cleared his throat, ‘we haven’t met,’ he stepped forward reaching out a hand for Marina, who shook it firmly. ‘Dorian Parvus.’ He introduced.

As they pulled back, Marina widened her eyes slightly, ‘necromancer?’

Dorian chuckled, ‘good spot,’ he bowed a little with a little flourish, ‘blood mage?’ He queried back.

She winked.

‘Wait,’ I muttered rubbing my eyes, ‘so who’s Daisy?’

‘Oh Inky!’ Sera snorted, placing a hand on my back. She shook her head and pretending to wipe away tears again. _Which both didn't answer my question at all._


	80. The Gathering in the Tower

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lavellan and Hawke discuss their next cause of action.And the meeting in the tower is interrupted by the exact person they were trying to avoid.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mentions of Fem!Hawke/Merrill

‘So, Sera said something about Crestwood?’ I asked Marina Hawke.

She lounged under a broken window, one leg tucked under her and the other stretched out. She nodded, her bright eyes on me. ‘That’s where Stroud’s holed up.’

I frowned for a moment trying to place the name, ‘the warden?’ I guessed.

She nodded in response, quick smile as though I’d impressed her

‘Tell me more about this Stroud,’ I asked, trying to sound as serious as I could. I moved across the room, perching on a chair with its back broke off.

Marina shrugged and cracked the knuckles of both hands, ‘not much to tell. He’s a Warden, recruited my sister a few years back.’ A grimace passed over her face for a split second before she schooled it back to the lazy confidence that she’d been wearing. ‘When Varric told me red lyrium was back I wrote to Stroud hoping he could help.’ She glanced over at Varric with a smile, ‘how do you always end up in the middle of these things?’

The dwarf laughed, tapping his fingers lightly against the back of the chair he was stood behind, ‘always need more material.’ He said with a sly glance towards me.

Marina narrowed her eyes playfully, ‘still haven’t got my royalties on that last one.’

‘Ahh,’ Varric raised his hands defensively, ‘my publisher is an _arse_.’

‘He’s been an arse for six years, get a new one.’ Marina retorted. And Varric replied with a shake of the head and something non-committal. She shook her head and turned back to me. ‘Make sure you get his coin before he steals your story.’

 _Wait._ ‘You’re going to write about _me_?’ I turned around to Varric, who sort of shrugged as if he wasn’t even a little bit sorry. I breathed out a little, ‘make me taller?’ I suggested.

Marina laughed loudly and slapped her thigh, she shook her head and sombred, ‘Anyway, the Wardens are hearing the calling, all of them.’ She flicked a glance over to Blackwall.

At her words, he closed his eyes and barely nodded. _Falon’Din’s mercy he looked ready to drop._ ‘Blackwall, is there anything we can do to help?’ I asked softly.

His jaw tightened, ‘no, thank you.’ He said gruffly. I’d heard of the calling, I couldn’t imagine what it was doing to him. The kind of dedication he needed to simply stay with us. For a second, I considered asking to keep a watch on him, but I would check with him first.

‘ _Ahhh,_ so Cory-tit-shits is a bloody archdemon isn’t it?’ Sera muttered from behind me. Even from behind me I could almost see her shiver. Blackwall flashed her a look, and a tight smile.

Marina tapped her fingers on her outstretched leg and then looked up to Sera, and bit the corner of her lip, ‘the calling would mean that usually, yes.’ Her voice was grimmer than it had been only a few moments before. ‘Stroud has another theory but doesn’t trust it to paper.’ Her hands knotted together, ‘apparently there’s some corruption in the Wardens,’ at her words I watched Blackwall sagged his shoulders for a split second, thinking no one was watching him before straightening again, as though his exhausted vigil could restore his order. Marina once again interrupted my thoughts, ‘something scared him, he’s hiding in Crestwood.’

Sera shuddered, ‘why can’t he meet us in a city? With bed and markets?’

‘I think he’s trying _not_ to get caught Buttercup.’ Varric replied to Sera with an easy smile.

 _Buttercup?_ I realised with a jolt I’d been apart from these people for almost two months. Then I glanced to Merrill, _another flower. Does Sera remind him of her?_

‘And pray tell what you call me?’ Dorian asked from behind my shoulder.

Varric considered him for a minute, a finger wagging in circles vaguely in Dorian’s directly. Then he grinned, ‘Sparkler.’ He announced.

Dorian sighed, and Marina glanced at Merrill, ‘he’s getting worse.’ She laughed.

Merrill looked up, suddenly alert, as though she’d been daydreaming, and smiled anyway. She tilted her head when she thought no one was looking, and I realised she was staring with interest at the woven bracelet on my wrist.

‘Actually-‘ Varric began, but was cut off.

The door burst open and a red faced Cassandra stood in the doorway.

‘Easy, Seeker,’ Bull said, already on his feet, ready to intercept at a moment’s notice.

Cassandra took a moment to survey the room, noting with a deadly exactly who was present. Then her eyes locked on Varric, ‘you told me you did not know where she was!’ Her words were quiet, but furious.

Varric opened his mouth, but Marina cut across him, ‘I’m right here!’ She exclaimed.

Cassandra gave her a glance, but returned her focus to Varric, ‘you lied, we needed her. Needed an Inquisitor.’

Marina shrugged out her arms and pointed across at me. ‘Your girl’s right there.’

I glared at her, _way to throw me in the deep end._

Cassandra huffed, but did turn to me. Faltering in her fury, ‘yes, yes, you have grown into the role, but we needed a champion.’ She said to me, a moment of sincerity throughout the madness. Then Cassandra huffed and pinched her nose, turning to the human woman, ‘it is good that you’re here.’

Marina smiled, but it didn’t meet her eyes. ‘Hawke this, Hawke that, why does everything always have to fall to me?’ She muttered sarcastically. Then rounded on Cassandra, ‘so speaks the Hero of Orlais, why didn’t you do it?’

Cassandra blinked as though the thought had honestly never occurred to her.

I turned to Sera and whispered, ‘hero of Orlais?’

Sera leaned back over, not bothering to drop her voice, ‘Cass single handedly saved Val Royeaux from a dragon-’

‘The rumours are much exaggerated,’ Cassandra said through gritted teeth.

‘-in an armoured miniskirt.’ Sera finished, looking particularly pleased with herself.

Cassandra let out a disgusted sigh, shaking her head as she did so. Bull clicked his tongue, admiring Cassandra with a new interest.

‘Do not look at me like that.’ She snapped. 

Sera was practically rolling on the floor laughing, but Marina turned seriously to me, and sighed wistfully, ‘but that’s all your job now, try not to start an exalted march on anything.’

My eyes widened and I chuckled nervously. I saw Merrill lay a warning hand on Marina, and spoke a rapid line of elvish, the only part I caught my _ma vhenan - her house?_

Marina blinked, glanced at her partner and then shrugged back to me, ‘sorry, bad joke.’ She whispered apologetically.

I nodded. _Pushing down my annoyance that this_ shemlen _knew more elvish than me._

‘Can we leave? The tower’s cold, and the pub is warm!’ Sera remarked, her foot tapping on the floor.

‘Right,’ I said, feeling like I should take charge, ‘shall we get you some rooms?’

Merrill glanced across at Marina, who gave her a reassuring smile back.

‘Then tavern?’ Sera asked, her voice raising in pitch as she spoke.

‘What a bunch of drunks,’ Marina laughed.

I was about to retort when Varric asked, ‘remind you of old times?’

She sighed, breathing deeply with a reminiscing smile, ‘maker, yes.’


	81. Elfy Friend

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lavellan finds herself back in the Herald's Rest, this time with friends! She spends some time getting to know Merrill and Hawke better.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mentions of Fem!Hawke/Merrill

‘No, no, no.’ I laughed, putting my drink down heavily, I tapped the table, ‘this is us,’ I raised a hand over it, ‘the sky and the veil is here, and,’ I raised another hand over the top, ‘here’s the fade, where the gods are and the breach and all that stuff.’

Merrill was half bent over the table, she snorted with laughter ‘is that what your Keeper told you?’ One hand was curled around her cup and the other lazily resting in Hawke’s lap.

I paused, and squinted into the distance trying to remember when anyone had told me that, ‘I don’t think so…’ I ended with, ‘it just makes sense to me.’ I said, _had I just made it all up?_ I took a drink to half hide behind my mug. ‘Well, I’m just a hunter, I find stuff, it’s your job to work out what it means.’ I added a little defensively. I glanced up as Marina left the table.

Merrill’s eyes followed her, but then flicked down to my woven bracelet, and then back to my face, ‘what is my job?’ Her voice was soft and quiet.

I gave her a look, _I’d seen her staff. She’d tucked it away under a travelling cloak, as though she was trying to be subtle._ So instead I nodded to her chest and the ring she wore on a loose chain around her neck. Merrill’s unfamiliar lines across her face pulled tightly as she frowned. Her hand tightened around her cup, ‘it’s tricky… I had to leave my clan.’ She looked directly at me, as though challenging me to comment, ‘I would have made a terrible Keeper.’

I shut my lips tightly together, _feeling like I’d absolutely put my foot in it._ I should have realised that relationships may be strained from the moment she hadn’t given me her clan name. ‘ _Ir abelas.’_ I whispered.

She waved a dismissive hand, but I could feel the tension between us. It was broken when Marina came back holding six cups pressed together between her hands, Cabot following behind her with his permanent scowl across his face.

‘Thank you, _ma vhenan_ ,’ Merrill said as she took the cup from her partner, a brief smile passing across her face.

The wine encouraged the question from my lips, ‘your house?’ I asked Merrill.

Her eyes widened for a moment, ‘ohhh, ohhh, _vhenan_ , not _vhenas._ It’s literally the _place of home_ , the place I can reside,’ she gazed at Marina adoringly, a blush placed across her cheeks, ‘my heart.’

I wrapped my hands around my cup but couldn’t help the ‘ _aww’_ that dropped from my lips. ‘That’s lovely.’

Marina looked back, her eyes dips to Merrill’s lips, but then she pulled herself back as though remembering she was in public. ‘I just call her _my wife_.’

Sera who had been sat next to me, ignoring the entire conversation up until that point, stuck two fingers in her mouth and whistled, and then rocked back on her chair kicking her feet with delight.

I glanced across at her, throwing Merrill and Marina an apologetic glance, but Marina seemed utterly unphased and wrapped and arm around Merrill pulling her close and planting a kiss on the side of her face. My stomach twisted as I saw the human touch Merrill’s _vallaslin,_ in anticipation of a reaction. _None came_. I glanced between the two, suddenly confused as to how it was possible, ‘so how does it work between-‘ I paused, wondering if there was a more polite term for Andrastian.

In the gap, Sera cut in, ‘I’ll show you, get me a ripe peach and-‘

I grimaced, and tapped Sera’s arm affectionately, ‘absolutely _not_ what I was asking. Only that you’re Dalish and you’re Andrastian, doesn’t it… clash?’ I said awkwardly tapping my hands together.

Marina laughed at my discomfort and clapped a hand against the table, then she leaned over the table as though about to confer a great secret upon me. ‘You know…’ she glanced around and dropped her voice, ‘you're mighty Dalish for the _Herald of Andraste_.’

I nodded, and gave her a tut of approval, ‘thank you.’ I said raising a cup to her words and puffing out my chest a little as I did so. _It was meant as a jibe, but it was the nicest thing the human had said to me so far._

Merrill looked up then at Marina. ‘What am I missing?’

Marina leaned back in her chair and considered for a minute, ‘Hellana wants to know if you care I follow the Maker?’ She glanced at me, raising an eyebrow to check she was correct. I blinked at her for a moment, utterly grateful that she’d used my name. But I flushed, and nodded to respond to her question, feeling foolish for asking. I eyed my wine, mentally cutting myself off.

Merrill considered for a moment, before glancing again at my _vallaslin,_ ‘well our gods abandoned us, and they haven’t answered any prayers since the fall of Arlathan.’

‘That isn’t true,’ I replied stubbornly. I’d witnessed their actions first hand, _Ghilan’nain had gotten me out of Redcliffe, Mythal had saved me from the Winter Palace, and Sylaise…_ I shuddered at the thought.

She continued as though I hadn’t interrupted her, ‘when we’ve proven ourselves as elves, they’ll come back.’

I blinked, _she’d twisted the gods to form the Andrastian mould._ I wondered if that was why they matched so easily. ‘The gods haven’t abandoned us, they were just locked away.’ I glanced up then, checking the ceiling was solid above me and I couldn’t be overheard. ‘What even is there to prove?’

‘That we can go back, remember what was lost.’ Merrill said quietly, eyes wide.

I shook my head so violently that my hair fell into my face, I racked it back with an impatient hand, ‘we can’t go back. We can only go forward, and-‘

‘Revivalist?’ She asked, a smile tugging at the corner of her mouth. She used the term as a question, but had named the school of thought to which my clan belonged.

I nodded enthusiastically, ‘Yep, we make it up and if it works, we keep it!’ I said, claiming the criticism most often levelled at us by purists as a positive rather than negative. ‘Are you a purist?’ I asked.

She blinked her large hazel eyes slowly at my, conforming my suspicion.

We paused for a moment, silently unsure where to go from this point. Thought Merrill was saved from the awkwardness when Maryden began a new song, with a fast beat, and Marina pulled Merrill up by the hand, ‘dance with me _baby dragon.’_ She purred. Merrill blushed and followed her. Throwing a shaking hand back, in a wave goodbye.

I drained the rest of my cup with a sigh, _surrounded by purists._ Though I didn’t really mind.

‘Is your elfy friend no good?’ Sera asked, a few minutes later when she realised I was alone on the end of the table.

I smiled, ‘we just disagree about some things. Anyway,’ I tapped her arm softly, ‘there will be no replacing you, as my _elfy friend_.’

‘Pffffft.’ She responded, sticking her tongue out at me as she did so.

‘Hey, can I crash with you upstairs tonight? I can’t face the three hundred thousand stairs to get to bed.’

Sera smiled and readily agreed. ‘Next round?’ I asked.

Sera stood, pushing me back into my seat before I could rise. ‘It’s on me, since you’ve got me a tasty pay rise.’ She took two steps and turn turned back, ‘you’d make a good Jenny, Inky.’

I laughed and shooed her away, then laid both of my arms on the table and tucked my head into the crook of my elbow. Watching the rest of the table. Cassandra was still talking the logistical of dragon-slaying to an enamored Bull, and Dorian, Blackwall and Varric we’re swapping tales of their adventures over the last two months. _In that moment, I could almost believe Skyhold was home._


	82. Not Looking Back

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The morning after the night in the Tavern. Lavellan takes stock at Skyhold, starting the preparations for her upcoming projects. And who is that figure in the distance?

‘ _Uggg_ ,’ I moaned as I woke up on the hard floor of Sera’s room. Whatever hardships I’d saved myself by avoiding the stairs to my own room, _I was surely suffering now from sleeping on the wooden floorboards_ . The light streamed in through the diamond patterned windows, and above my head ivy hung down from two hanging flower pots bolted into the ceiling. On the raised padded platform Sera was breathing softly, _still asleep_ , behind me _._ As quietly as I could I pulled the borrowed blanket and fur off, folded them neatly and then looked around for somewhere to leave them. Every inch of Sera’s room was filled with some nick-nack or another, the bookcase overflowing with an eclectic mix of saucy novels, unreturned mugs and even a skull. Even the walls were covered in banners, scarfs and the odd nail hammered into the stone with pendants and ribbons hanging from them. I gave up looking from an appropriate place to leave the blankets and placed them gently in a pile next to the door. I picked up some of the empty mugs to return them to Cabot.

Leaving her room, I pushed the door closed with my foot and I noticed the blood red scarf tied around her door knob, the only indication she gave that she was a Red Jenny. At the table next to her room, was a sleeping Blackwall. I smiled to see him, asleep but still sitting mostly upright, legs outstretched under the table and head back and mouth open, snoring. His head tipped up like some kind of howl, reminded me of the wolf statue that had guarded the camps that I’d grown up in, not that I would ever have breathed a word to either of them about the resemblance. Blackwall would have been confused and Sera would not have appreciated the idea of being protected from anything. I shook my head at the though with a smile and tip-toed past the Warden to avoid waking him from his well deserved rest. I peeked over the balcony to see Krem’s usual seat had been taken by Maryden who was restringing her instrument. On the way down the stairs we exchanged greetings.

Cabot emerged from the back room as I was placing the last one down, and I pointed upward, ‘mug amnesty,’ I said with a little smile.

He shook his head and scowled upwards towards Sera’s room.

It was still early morning when I crossed the courtyard, surveying the area with a new found technical eye. _I would need to find somewhere to build my shrine,_ I shivered with the pleasure of seeing Mother Giselle’s reaction to that. I would need to match whatever she did, _it was only fair._

The shrine would have to be open to the sky, of course. Accessible, but out of the way. It was a shame that Mother Giselle had worked so quickly, I had already heard reports that she was converting the little garden on the left of the main keep. Despite our Marker standing prominent in the space, we had already been removed from it. _Typical shem,_ I thought, although without too much malice, _it was a logical space._ Closed off, but easily found by those devoted enough to want to find it.

Hawke’s words of warning of accidentally starting an exalted march were still ringing in my ears from the night before, and I didn’t need telling that tensions could quickly escalate if the Andrastrians thought they were being overshadowed.

I turned my eye to the battlements. There were quite a few abandoned towers up there. _I would have to investigate._

 

I would need help, but who? I sat on the wide stone stairs, onto a few paces from where Leliana had given me the Inquisition’s sword. An elf standing for Thedas, _and a Dalish one at that_ . I worried the bracelet on my wrist, twisting it round my wrist. _I was surrounded by purists,_ I thought with a jolt. Should I build the shrine for me or for them? Each clan had slightly different practises, each clan argued with everyone else, back and forth, over every little detail. Did the icons have to be ancient or would copies do? Cleansing with fire or water? Were Dirthamen and Falon’Din lovers or brothers? I laughed bitterly, _June scowls at a cracked foundation,_ we couldn’t even agree on the number of creators to venerate! _What a foundation to build on!_ I rubbed my eyes, I needed help, I needed an _elf council_.

A figure in the distance, crossing the bridge to Skyhold caught my eye for a moment, and then I dismissed it, another refugee to be fed. _Speaking of which, breakfast._

 

I stood, and turned up to the Keep. In the main hall, I spotted Varric sat by one of the fires on the right hand side. Marina was sat with him, picking their way through a basket of fruit between them and scouring over a map. Varric raised a hand when he saw me.

‘How’s your head this morning?’ He asked with a smirk.

‘Saw-dusty,’ I replied after a moment. ‘What’s this?’ I asked, realising before he spoke that it was a map of Crestwood.

‘Town’s in a sorry state,’ said Marina, peeling an orange. ‘Most of it got flooded during the last Blight.’ She broke the peeled fruit in two and rocked her hands as though they were scales weighing the two, ‘death by blight or drowning, not sure which I’d pick.’ Then offered me half the orange.

I grimaced, ‘water. I think.’ And took half of the orange that she offered. I popped a piece in my mouth, crewing thoughtfully. _What a morbid start to the morning,_ I put a hand to my throat sympathetically.

Marina cocked an eyebrow but nodded after a moment, _silently agreeing._

Varric looked up and frowned, and I turned to see what he was looking at.

A figure behind me. ‘Inquisitor,’ Morrigan drawled, her voice thick as honey. ‘Tis good to find you here.’

I had to pause for a moment to truly appreciate her costume, about her neck was broad collar, and below, the thinnest trails of fabric crossed her chest leaving very little to the imagination. ‘Lady Morrigan,’ I spluttered after a second, remembering my _shem_ manners.

She gave me a wry smile, as though her exact intention was to put everyone on the back foot with that outfit. Feathers covered her left shoulder.

‘Magpie,’ Hawke said coldly, popping a piece of orange in her mouth and crunching down hard.

I glanced back, as did Morrigan, ‘well, well, well, you’re collecting all the heroes to your cause.’ Morrigan said to me, the faintest hint of sarcasm passed across her features as though it was a sweet perfume.

I school my face to a mask, ‘do you count yourself among these heroic ranks?’ I asked.

I heard Marina snort to the side of me but I didn’t look at her.

Morrigan merely nodded as though the conversation bored her, ‘you were kind to welcome my aid,’ sharp eyes flicked to Marina and then back to me, ‘I will do my best to aid your cause with all the knowledge at my disposal, this I swear to you.’ Then she placed a light hand on my cheek and swept away as though drawn like driftwood by a current.

My hand went to my face, and I blinked. _Cryptic and useful as ever._ I looked back to Marina and Varric. Varric looked overjoyed, and I saw his hand itching for something, probably quill and paper to ensure the event was recorded. Marina however looked sour, ‘enjoy all her stolen knowledge.’ She said, shaking a piece of peel at the witch.

I glanced, but Morrigan was gone. ‘Stolen knowledge?’ I asked barely louder than a whisper.

‘The magpie takes,’ she said, throwing her last piece of orange into the air and catching it with her teeth. She wiped her hands briskly on her thighs and glanced at Varric, ‘she got Merrill’s mirror.’

Varric noticeably paled. ‘Daisy just let it go?’

‘She didn’t have a choice.’ Marina said, voice like stone.

‘A mirror?’ I asked, glancing between the two. Completely confused by the turn of events.

‘An ancient elven thing-y,’ Marina said with a shrug, ‘she fixed it and-‘

‘Daisy actually fix it, huh?’ Varric interrupted, looking off into the distance.

Marina gave him and impatient look, ‘it roared to life and knock knock.’ She rapped her knuckles in the air, ‘letters from Empress Celene, I’ll be taking that.’ She crosses her arms over her chest in a huff. Then she closed her eyes and tapped at her forehead with a thin finger, face wrinkled up in concentration. ‘Eluvian!’ She said a little loudly after a couple heartbeats, ‘that’s what she calls it.’

‘Chuckles,’ Varric said suddenly, almost warningly. Marina looked at him expectantly. But Varric was not looking at her, rather directly above my head.

Marina followed his eyeline, and frowned.

‘Inquisitor,’ came a cool voice I knew intimately. _Solas._

I was on my feet before I could think and threw my arms around his neck, pulling him close. ‘You came back!’ I gasped.

He pulled out of my grasp and gave me a stern look, so stern I took a little step back. My mouth went dry. I glanced to Varric and Marina, ‘excuse us.’ I muttered, feeling the blush reach my ears.


	83. Reunion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lavellan and Solas get to have a bit of a catch up, Solas tries to question everything that Lavellen thinks she knows.

‘I said that I would meet you back at Skyhold,’ Solas said a little impatiently as I pushed through the door at the far end of the main keep. He’d only been back a few minutes, pack still on his shoulders and footwraps splattered with mud, but he’d asked to speak to me. And now he was silently accusing me of  _ something.  _ I could hear it in his tone, see it in the subtle movements. 

I turned in the doorway, propping it open with my foot. ‘No you didn’t.’ I retort. 

He narrowed his eyes at me, and then he tilted his head as though it was of no consequence either way,  _ as though I hadn’t spent the last couple of weeks worried sick.  _

‘Cass wasn’t happy that you left.’ I respond instead. The door closed behind us with a thud, shutting out the chatter of the main hall. 

He raised an eyebrow and looked along the corridor, leading to my room, questioning the direction I am taking him. 

I stood my ground, and cleared my throat a little, ‘I’m avoiding Leliana at the moment, so my  _ office  _ will have to do.’  _ There,  _ I tell myself proudly _ , very proper.  _

He waits a heartbeat, letting my words sink in. ‘I cannot imagine the Seeker being choked up at my absence.’ 

I chuckled to myself, ‘wrong kind of  _ not happy,  _ she was ready to send the army after you. _ ’  _ I paused, and licked my lip, unsure how much of this I should be revealing. ‘I didn’t let her, of course, told her I knew you’d be back. So thank you, I guess, for coming back.’ 

Solas’ sharp look softened, the hint of a smile gracing his features. ‘I could hardly abandon you now, Inquisitor.’ 

I took a breath,  _ formal and impossible _ , I am Inquisitor again. ‘How are you?’ I asked after a few moments. 

He looked a little surprised, a nervous hand shifting on his staff. ‘It hurts, it always does. But I will survive.’ I nod, set on the back foot but his heartbreaking honesty. He sighed, and dropped his pack by the door and propped his staff next to it.  _ A disarming gestured _ . Then he closed the door, and turned back to me, ‘I went to sleep, found the place my friend used to be, there was nothing.’ He offered, shoulders slumped and I see the weight of it physically on him. ‘ _ She _ was gone.’ The agony in his voice, made my stomach drop. He looked almost younger, paler, the freckles splayed across his cheeks are more apparent,  _ sweet man,  _ I think,  _ he didn’t deserve this.  _

I stepped a little closer, the chill in the room means that I have both forgotten to close my balcony doors and that I can feel the heat radiating off him,  _ a shrine desecrated and we shared the blame. _ ‘I am sorry,’ I said, ‘I tried to make amends to Sylaise.’ My voice was a whisper and I could feel my heartbeat thundering in my neck. 

The change is as sudden as thundered on a sunny day. His eyes narrowed, dark and darting across my face, ‘tell me what  _ Sweet Sylaise _ had to do with any of this.’ He spoke her name like a curse, cold enough that I can feel it creeping up my skin. 

‘The shrine,’ my right hand is at my throat. ‘I knew better, and I did nothing to stop this, now everything is ash.’ I confess. 

He draws back, his eyes flashing across my face as though I’m a difficult piece of text. Then it clicked and he’s shaking his head, laughing as though it’s a simple game and I don’t understand the rules, ‘one shattered pot is not enough to bring down the wrath of a god.’ 

‘And how would you know?’ I spit, suddenly angry, I pull my hands up, palms on his chest and I shoved him away from me, hard. But he stepped with my action. As though he expected it, as though it was a choreographed dance. 

A smile tugged at the corners of his mouth, but his eyes got immeasurably darker. ‘Your false piety will do you no good.’

My mouth opened forming a response, and closed again with a snap. ‘False piety?’ I said quietly, ‘I understand that you’re upset-‘

‘So you’ve taken the opportunity to school me in Dalish superstition.’ 

‘I only wanted to-‘

‘I know  _ exactly _ what you want.’ 

‘What is that supposed to mean?’ 

‘You think if your fault you can claim this as your action, however terrible the consequences, at least you’re in control.’

I didn’t look up at him, for a moment his words flashed before me unblinkingly as the truth. Cutting straight to the quick of my faith, I had no response, no rebuttal. Was that really what I was doing? What I had done? But, then my faith wrapped back around me like a blanket, that the odd little thing about faith, two contradictory things could be true at the same time. 

‘When really,’ he continued leaning back against the cold stone walls, arms crossed loosely over his chest, completely oblivious to my internal crisis, ‘it was only some humans casting spells they could not comprehend. Ignorance killed my friend.’ 

_ How far did his cause and effect philosophy go back?  _ If the mages hadn’t found that particular spellbook? If the civil war had never happened? If Celene had never stolen the throne out from under Gaspard? If we’d just gotten out to Wisdom five minutes earlier, ‘I should have-‘ I blurted out, ready to spill all of my concerns. But, I froze as Solas stepped closer, hovered a thumb agonisingly slowly above the  _ vallaslin  _ branches under my right eye. Technically he wasn’t touching the lines, so my rules had not been broken, but the blood magic in my skin crackled to attention. And I grimaced as the magic burns through the  _ vallaslin _ , then after a couple of heartbeats something utterly unexpected happened. The magic settled intimate and exacting; I almost laughed,  _ my face was on fire and I didn’t overly mind _ . Then his thumb swiped across my lip, smoothing away the grimace,  _ fuck…  _

_ ‘ _ I killed everyone responsible, Hellana,’ he said with an air of finality. His words were both reassuring and deeply unsettling. I glanced to his staff, discarded in the doorway, he was never unarmed, I realised with a jolt. 

I didn’t have anything to say in response. But it turned out that I didn’t need to as someone knocked on the door. Solas closed his eyes slowly. I glanced to my right, wondering for a split second if I could pretend that we weren’t here.  _ Seriously, would it kill everyone to just not interrupt for half a day? _

‘Boss, Varric told me you were up here, you’re going to want to see this.’ The Iron Bull’s voice called from behind the wooden door. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I mean, how many times, has Bull being interrupted? I thought it was only fair he was the interrupter this time! :D


	84. An Offering to Sylaise

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lavellan gets some good news from Bull, and Solas discovers what Lavellan is keeping on her balcony.  
> It's a very different kind of balcony scene.

‘Boss, Varric told me you were up here, you’re going to want to see this.’ The Iron Bull’s voice called from behind the wooden door, and he rapped on the door three more times. 

I glanced at Solas, simply tilted his head towards in the door, almost as though he was giving me permission. I frowned and I opened the door slowly, peeking my head around the door.  Bull wasn’t facing the door. 

‘Are you decent?’ He asked with a laugh, not looking back.

I scowled at his back, ‘yes.’ I snapped. 

‘Damn Boss, you move slower than-’ I never learned to what I would be compared to as his single eye spotted Solas next to me, and I see his gaze pass over the abandoned pack on the floor. ‘Solas.’ He said, and smiled in a such a way that his nose scrunched up. Then he straightened and turned back to me,  _ business.  _

I sighed, ‘come up.’ I flicked a hand to guide the way up the stairs. 

At the top of the stairs they both paused. I ignored them both and moved over to my desk, standing just in front of it.  

In a couple of heartbeats, Solas had noted the changes to my room since he had last stepped foot here. In the long hours since I’d been back in Skyhold I had reorganised to better make use of the space. The bed had been moved to the top landing, and in its place are eight comfortable chairs arranged in a circle, making a meeting space. Solas came to stand beside me and I felt the warmth of his hand on the small of back.  _ Oddly comforting _ . 

Bull glanced at Solas, before handing me a scrap of paper, ‘this just came in.’ 

I looked down at the crumpled note that Bull handed me, black angular runes criss crossed back and forth. The hand was neat, but utterly incomprehensible. It must be in some kind of code, then I glanced up at the qunari and took a stab in the dark, ‘this is in qunlat, I think’ I say slowly. Looking up uncertainty. 

Bull cursed in a language that I don’t know, and reached for the paper. 

And I felt Solas move, shifting to take a single glance over the paper, ‘We found Clan Lavellan on the Imperial Highway, three days from Skyhold, Krem.’ He translated into Trade for us. 

I blinked at the paper and then up at Bull, who is frowning looking at Solas with a barely concealed dislike. 

‘Is that right?’ I asked quietly to Bull, not even daring to hope. 

Bull glanced down at me, and gave me a single sharp nod. But then schooled himself and spread it into a quick smile, but I knew his attention was fully on the elf beside me. A couple of tense heartbeats pass. Then Bull barked something in a language that I’d never heard before, it was rough and guttural. Solas replied in the same tongue, and I saw Bull narrow his eyes, 

‘You tel’vashoth?’ Bull asked in tight tone.

I glanced at Solas, for a split second I think Bull might be right, after all  _ he had said that he was from the north.  _

Solas glanced between us with an almost bored expression, he closed his eyes slowly and pinched the bridge of his nose with one hand and raised his other hand into the air conjuring a sputtering spark of veilfire that grew into a flame lazily sitting in his hand. 

‘Urmph.’ Bull said, frowning at the magic that was flaring in the other man’s palm. ‘Guess not.’ I didn’t need to be told about how the qunari treated mages. ‘Where did you learn it?’ Bull asked, and I saw him visibly relax. He flashed Solas an apologetic glance. 

‘I read.’ Solas replied with a snap, and the blue fire died in his hand. 

I glanced between the two of them, and it hit me.  _ My clan were safe and coming to Skyhold.  _ ‘I…’ Then I turned back to Bull, ‘the Chargers are bringing them here?’ I confirmed.

Bull nodded, and raised half his mouth in a tight smile, ‘my boys are bringing them home, Boss.’ 

I let out a breath and I felt light. ‘Thank you, thank you,’ the words tumbled out of my mouth. I left like I could float off the floor,  _ I would not be alone _ . I glanced to the balcony. ‘I need to…’ I needed to pray, but I also needed to find Dehnan, let him know. 

‘Hellana?’ Solas spoke my name carefully, pulling me back to the present with an alarming precision. 

I rubbed at my eyes, there would so much to do. I indicated to Bull, ‘will you let Leliana and Josie know.’ I threw my hands into the air.  _ Deshanna was coming to Skyhold, she would know what to do. Everything just got easier.  _ Then I gasped as the full weight of the situation slowly unfolded. ‘oh and if you see Varric, we’re going to have to delay Crestwood.’ I spun around, a thousand things to do and my brain unable to decide which was most important. My hands flying over my desk, laughing in a shocked astonishment. Then I turned back to Bull, ‘can I keep this?’ I asked holding up the note.

Bull shrugged, ‘sure.’ 

‘You can’t read it,’ Solas noted. 

‘Not the point,’ I returned without looking at him.  _ I would offer it.  _

Bull smiled, and the scarred lines across his face pulled taut, ‘thought you wouldn’t mind me interrupting for that news.’ He passed an amused look to Solas, and left us, with nothing but Bull’s steps echoing down the stone stairs. 

I clutched the note to my chest, and closed my eyes. ‘ _ Sylaise  _ _ enaste,’   _ I whispered at the paper, quietly enough that I wouldn’t be overheard. I glanced at Solas, then looped two fingers under his belt and pulled him across, planting a kiss on his cheek. ‘I’ll be five minutes or so,’ I didn’t care if he thought my prayers were pointless, I’d prayed for my clan to be safe,  _ an entire night of whispering prayers to Sylaise _ . If there was the barest chance that her hand had played a role in the survival of my clan, I would ensure she knew I was grateful. I pointed to the desk, ‘bottom drawer,’ I added. I stowed some candied fruits, and I hoped they would keep him and his sweet tooth busy for a few minutes. 

And then I walked out onto the balcony. The two doors framing my shrine. 

I knelt before my gods, and pulled the little statue of Sylaise into the middle. She was designed as a lady holding out a hand engulfed in fire, her head crowned with flowers. Her other hand held out her skirt to give the effect that she was spinning around. Painted in brilliant reds and golds, she was every bit as gaudy as the rest of them.  _ It was an obvious depiction, but I didn’t care, it actually made me love the statues all the more.  _ I smiled at her and nodded my head and then glanced up at the sky. From under the desk I brought out a little candle and some matches, and lit the candle before her. Then I raised the note in qunlat above my head, and brought it back down. I folded it in half and tucked it under her statue, then my fingertips touched my  _ vallaslin.  _ I closed my eyes.  __

A click at the door made me flash my eyes open, to find Solas perched against the open door, licking the sugar off a finger. His eyebrowed raised as he examined my modest set up. 

‘What is this supposed to be?’ He asked, taking a little set closer, picking up the statue on the end before I could stop him. He weighted it in his hand, and then looked down at the statue with the wolf-skull for a head. 

I crossed my arms, annoyed. ‘Give him back.’ I demanded, and then glanced down to see an older note that had resided under the statute fly up into the air, caught on a breeze. In a panic I snatched it from the air. And then I held out a hand to him, and huffed.  _ Give him back.  _

‘Where did you find these?’ He asked incredulous. 

I dropped my hand, and pushed my lips together in annoyance. ‘Mice made them for me.’

He laughed, chucking under his breath, ‘you wasted Inquisition funds on these ugly little dolls?’ Looking down again at the figure in his hand. 

‘I commissioned them myself, actually’ I snapped, ‘I like them.’ Then I looked back at the shrine, ‘they’re not dolls.’ I said coldly. 

His laughter caught in his throat, and I watched as his gaze passed over each of the figures again. Putting a name to each one, and then with an amused horror he looked down at the one he was holding. ‘This is completely,’ he begins and then shakes his head. His jaw clenched and when he looked down on me kneeling before my gods, his eyes are dark. ‘These are useless.’ He said finally. 

I give him my best indignant snort, one that I suspect Vivienne may be proud of. ‘Useless?’ I repeated back. 

‘If you had a doll of Celene, would you be able to speak to her through it?’ 

I rolled my eyes, about to argue that they were of course not dolls, but I changed tactics suddenly. ‘Can you prove it?’ 

He narrowed his eyes, suspecting a trap and didn’t say anything. 

‘Prove it, and I’ll burn the lot of them.’ I challenged. 

‘Ahh, that may not be so easy.’ 

‘Then, give him back,’ I smiled smugly stretching my hand out again, I let a hand fall to my hip impatiently. 

Solas considered for a second, and then eyed the scrap of paper, ‘show me the paper.’ 

I snorted, ‘no.’  _ Why did he think he was in a position to negotiate terms? _

‘Why not?’ He asked, giving me a testing smile. 

I shifted a little, moving so that I was facing him more directly. ‘You’ll laugh.’ I said, giving voice to the least of my concerns.

He weighed the statue in his hand, and considered. ‘A trade?’ He suggested. 

I looked down at the little piece of paper, he was asking me to hand over a prayer. But he was holding a god ransom, so I guessed I had no choice. ‘Fine.’ 

I held the paper out, but did not let it out of my grip until the Wolf god was safely back in my hands. I clutched him to my chest, and set him down on the counter carefully. Throwing a scowl at Solas in the process, who completely ignored me. He unfolded the note, and laughed so hard that he ended up leaning on the stone railing. 

I stood then, ‘very funny.’ I snapped. 

‘Cassandra Pentaghast?’ He spluttered, waving the paper in my direction. 

I don’t look at him, but I lent on the balcony railing next to him, ‘that’s been there for months, she kept trying to convert me.’ I muttered stubbornly. 

Solas considered for a moment and then moved over to the shrine, touching the corner of the paper to the candle flame. ‘So you thought you would ask for divine intervention.’ He lets the paper go and it flies up into the air turning to ash. 

‘Purist,’ I hissed disdainfully. 

‘Dalish,’ he repeated back to me in the same tone.

I laughed then, and my solemnity crashed around me, ‘oh, shut up,’ I said playfully. ‘Like you’re any better,’ I drop my voice low in a poor imitation of him, ‘oh Seeker so fight so well, oh Seeker I hope your maker is worthy of you.’ I grinned at him, ‘least I’m not a suck up.’ 

He scowled, but then something shifted. He gave me a curt nod, and turned walking quickly away. 

I blinked, surprised at his reaction and went after him. ‘Wait, don’t go.’ 

‘Are there more criticisms you would like to voice?’ He asked, his head tilted slightly, examining me. 

‘Solas-’ 

‘Was the Winter Palace simply a drunken mistake?’ He queried, with no more emotion that he would ask the time. But it struck me as though he’d hit me. 

‘No of course not,’ I replied. 

Solas was looking past me, ‘it  _ would _ be easier in the end.’ He said convincing himself of the course of action. 

‘Don’t’ I said, catching him arm and reaching up to kiss him properly. Within a heartbeat his arm had snaked around my waist. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I couldn’t do it, I couldn’t hurt her clan!


	85. Vhenan

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lavellan and Solas make up after their little argument, and Solas’ fade step certainly makes getting up ladders a lot easier. Confessions abound!
> 
> Creators, over 2000 hits! What have I done to deserve such a wonderful audience! A huge huge thank you to everyone who is still reading, and let me send all of my love to everyone who’s left fantastic comments! I adore you all!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Be warned, this chapter is a little nsfw <3

I kissed him, desperate for him to know there were no mistakes between us, none at all. And he responded in kind, fierce and needy. He tastes like sweet fruit, and I cannot help but smile asthe kiss is deepened. He dipped me only a little, one hand already finding my hip, it pushing me slightly off balance so that I gasped. Solas took the opportunity to push his tongue into my mouth. I wrapped and encouraging arm around his neck and try to get even closer to him. Warm and firm, and _fuck-_

Stumbling back a few steps, I crashed us both into my desk, spilling a pile of papers onto the floor in the process. I turned, to witness the damage, and decided in a instance that it was better on the floor.

‘Will that cause the whole of Halamshiral to come crashing down?’ He growled against my ear, hot breath raising a shudder across my skin.

‘I wish,’ I responded, and I bring my fingers down to fumble with his belt buckle. ‘I didn’t have enough information, so I made the wrong conclusion.’ I breathed, gasping as the leather hit the floor with a satisfying slap.

He paused for a moment to look up from unbuttoning my jacket. ‘You were wrong?’

I laughed, ‘it happens.’ The cold hits my chest as my jacket is flung open with surprising ease. I glance down at the desk, the corner of the wood digging into the back of my thighs and frowned, ‘there is a bed right there.’

‘Ahh,’ he said, and pulled me right against him and with a flash of green and disorientation I found us on the upper level. Stood next to the bed. I shrugged my open jacket onto the floor, and slip my hands underneath his tunic, tugging it upwards.

He trailed kisses along my neck, warm and wet.  

‘Yes, you’re right.’ I acknowledged and he paused in his work to wait for what I had to say. ‘We did make a terrible mistake at the winter palace, too many clothes.’

He growled in response to my horrible tease and bit down gently as punishment. I moaned as his teeth graze my skin I dropped his shirt to the ground, and run my hands along the firm plains of his chest. There are a small handful of scars there, all tiny, and I want to draw constellation across his skin. My fingers found an obvious old arrow wound just below his ribs, ‘what happened?’ I asked, before I could think better of it.

Solas took my hand and moved it upwards, ‘an old battle.’ He said with a small smile.

I snorted, _cryptic as ever._ So I focused my attention on his ridiculous tight trousers, which I’m half sure are as practical as they are distracting. My back arches as his hands tighten on my hips, grinding me close. He smells of three weeks on the road, woodsmoke and horse and verdant mud and I don’t care in the slightest.

I leaned back with my hands around his waist, examining the sharp lines of his face, his blue eyes looking down at me. I leaned a shoulder forward, showing off my own scars, ‘you were there when this happened.’ I said, look down at the marks caused by my tumble off a cliff in the Storm Coast.

It’s nowhere near as impressive, but he smiled and traced a finger across my speckled skin, ‘one moment you were there and the next gone, we all thought we’d lost you.’

I bit my lip to see his eyes dark. I am suddenly impatient, I twisted my foot around his leg, pulling him off balance, and we both go crashing, laughing, onto the bouncing _shem_ bed.

* * *

 

Slick with sweat and come, I dropped my head onto his chest and he wrapped his arms around me. ‘Fuck,’ I say, pulling my marked hand through my hair, to keep it out of my face, and then I drop my hand curling my fingers around the side of his waist. My leg is thrown causally across his hip.

‘Hmm,’ Solas agreed, his head back, swollen lips slightly apart. ‘ _Ar lath ma_ ,’ he breathed leisurely, and traced a line down my spine. _I love you._

I raised my head surprised, and he met my gaze. He was all lazy confidence and I was bubbling up again with desire, _if it meant what I thought it meant_. ‘Solas?’ I ask softly.

He chuckled, and spoke lightly, ‘it means what you think it does.’

I rest my head back, just listening to his heart beating. _I never want to leave this bed_. ‘Good,’ I say reluctantly, ‘I was always bad at tongues.’

‘I beg to disagree, _vhenan,’_ he replied with a coy smile, .

I slapped him playfully, with the back of my free hand. ‘Hush,’ I sat and then I snapped back up, as the missing piece slotted into place, _‘vhenan_?’ I gasped.

He grinned at this, ‘it means-‘

I place a finger across his lips, and he kissed the digit. ‘I know what it means.’ And I earned a momentary frown for stealing an explanation from him.

He folded an arm behind his head, and then fumbled behind him for a moment, giving me a curious glance as he did so. Pulling something out from the folds in the pillowcase. He raised an eyebrow at me, as he presented me with the delicate pendant that I’d brought back from the future.

I blinked at it, ‘I’d forgotten that was there.’ I said honestly, trying to remember when I’d put it there.

‘I’m flattered.’ Solas’ voice was a little stiff.

I blushed at his implications, ‘I,’ _I didn’t have anything to respond._ ‘May I?’ I asked instead, taking the pendant from him and knotting the leather cord twice in the middle. ‘There, can’t get them confused now.’ I said, reached over the side of bed, tucking it out of sight.

He didn’t seem to have anymore to say on the matter, so I hid my face against his chest.

We lie together for a while, until Solas took my left hand in his, tracing across the anchor mark with slim fingers. ‘Does it pain you?’

I shook my head, ‘hardly at all anymore, it seems to have settled.’

He considered what I told him and then moved slightly so that he could see me better, ‘do you think that it had changed you in any way?’

I blinked at him and then took my hand back to flex my fingers in the air, ‘how would I know?’ I replaced my hand in his.

Solas closed my hand into a fist, his own around it, sheltering me from the green light.

‘Ask my clan,’ I say, looking down at our hands, ‘they would know.’ Then I consider it, I cannot picture Solas in the same room as any of them. I laughed and couldn’t stop, an ugly laugh that pulled me from his grip. I have to sit up to catch my breath, ‘oh gods,’ I spluttered, wiping away unreal tears from my eyes, ‘you’re going to hate them.’

‘Hellana?’ A tug of worry pulls down his lips.

I pushed myself so I’m straddling his hips, and I lean down, so my hair curtains around our faces. ‘You think Sera is loud.’ I grinned, almost giddy with excitement, his eyes go wide for a moment and his hands drop to my hips, tightening with a new found urgency.

‘I’ll protect you from the Dalish horde.’ I say with mock solemnity.

‘I will hold you to that.’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For reference;  
> Chapter 13, Lavellan falls down a cliff.  
> Chapter 33, Lavellan stows the pendent under the pillow.


	86. Touchbearer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clan Lavellan arrive, and they make quite the impression on the Inquisition. Deshanna comes bringing gifts.

I was sat on the chair on the raised dias,  _ throne,  _ I supposed although he word sounded too  _ shem.  _ My fingers tapped impatiently against my thigh. I could see Josephine to my right, clipboard at the ready. She glanced up occasionally, but proceeded with her work in silence. 

There were more people in the main hall than normal, crowds of people had turned up to see the spectacle of seeing the arrival of the Dalish clan. 

At some point this morning, my clan would arrive. I had spent a fraught previous afternoon debating with Josie on how best to welcome my clan to Skyhold. Was my Keeper equal to a  _ shem  _ duchess, a marquise, or just a lady of note? Josie had impressed upon me the importance of setting a precedent, but no one could agree on what the precedent should be. I’d spent a sleepless night, worrying, because without a means to communicate with Deshanna, it really didn’t matter what we decided. The only benefit to a sleepless night was watching Solas sleep, his dreaming eyes darting across closed eyelids. I couldn’t help wondering how he would cope with my clan. He hardly hid his disdain for the Dalish, and clan Hawen had done nothing to convince him otherwise. Maybe clan Lavellan would do better. 

Above me, on the raised balcony, I could see Vivienne waiting, she looked as restless as I felt. Although it might have been Sera’s presence next to her that was causing her unease. Sera had created a game in which she threw something off the balcony onto the hall below and ducked out of the way, trying to make it appear as though Vivienne was the one doing the dropping. Every few minutes Sera would lob something over and Vivienne would flick her staff, causing green sparks to return Sera’s projectiles. The two had an odd relationship, I saw Sera as someone who Vivienne had taken under her wing, much to Sera’s chagrin. Vivienne wanted to be Sera’s mentor, while Sera was happy to be Vivienne’s tormentor. 

The morning had faded to afternoon and the crowd was becoming a little restless, I’d heard muttering that my clan wasn’t even coming. Josephine gave me a smile to try to reassure me. 

Then without warning, I looked down at the hall, as I heard some sort of chaos from outside the main hall, and I glanced at Josie, she nodded. It was show time.  _ Sweet Sylaise, I will burn a hundred fires in your honour. Sweet Sylaise, lady who had brought my hearth back to me.  _

I glanced down at the woven bracelet around my wrist, I was supposed to return to my clan. That was its purpose, I could see the twisted rope of nervousness unwrap from my waist and draw across the keep, across Skyhold and across Thedas dragging my clan back to me. We would reunite no matter what, 

I heard some gasps from the other end of the hall, and I felt my heart pound in my chest. I stood,  _ Sylaise save me, what was happening? _

I saw twisted horns in the double doorway. I almost laughed.  _ Deshanna was riding in on a hart!  _ Nothing Josie had would prepare have for this. I couldn’t blame my mother of course, she was five foot nothing - and surrounded by  _ shem -  _ a mount would be the best way to make an impression. 

I saw her then, and my heart lurched, dressed in her usual turquoise Keeper’s robes, a staff strapped to the back of her saddle. I could almost hear the familiar rattle from her charms tied to the staff tip. In the year since I’d last seen her, her hair had turned grey, a line at her shoulder retaining the black gloss that I remembered, it had been tamed back with twisting teal ribbons, braided through creating a crowned effect. She looked like a queen. 

The crowd in that had gathered to see the Dalish appear, split into two, stumbling to get out of her way. The great antlered beast tall and foreboding, coloured gold and white. A beautiful creature, well trained, but one I didn’t recognise. 

Flanking my Keeper on her left was her First, a lanky blond by the name of Moherinal. He’d moved to our clan nine years ago during the last  _ arlathvhen  _ from a clan with too many mages. On Deshanna’s right was a man that I didn’t initially recognise, by rights it should have been Vaelantine, the highest ranking Hunter. After another heartbeat, and another pace closer I realised. The shock of white hair gave him away, my cousin Sil. I hadn’t recognised as he’d added to his  _ vallaslin,  _ so now he had two flames of Sylaise, one over each eye creating a sort of dark blue mask. He glanced around the building and I could almost imagine him whistling, impressed. He was carrying something with him, a large flat box, covered with red sail.

It took every tendril of willpower I could summon to not run to them, drop to my knees before them and sob.  _ They were alive, and before me. Thank the gods!  _ Josephine was on my right, an anchor to keep me grounded. 

Deshanna stopped the hart, and with Moherinal’s assistance she lowered gently to the ground. She handed the reins to her First and strode purposefully towards me. With a broad smile, she dropped into a  _ shem  _ cutsie. I froze, wanting to run forward and raise her up, and utterly surprised by her action. ‘Inquisitor, I am Keeper Istimaethoriel, of clan Lavellan.’ 

My mouth went dry,  _ Mother Mythal, what was my mother doing?  _ She introduced herself in the most formal way. 

I saw Josie give me a pointed glance.

‘Keeper you are welcome here.’ I spluttered, ‘our honoured guests.’ I added. ‘As our honoured guests.’ I corrected, louder and clearer, allowing my voice to ring across the hall.  

‘Your worship,’ Deshanna bowed her head again, and I saw Sil pass an amused look to Moherinal. The First only stared seriously straight ahead. ‘Our clan was chased from our homeland, our  _ aravals  _ burnt, we seek sanctuary.’ 

‘Granted,’ I half shouted, not even needing a moment to consider. ‘Clan Lavellan will always be welcome in the Inquisitor, as our  _ most  _ valued allies.’ I added, Josie had impressed upon me the importance of establishing the clan as allies. There was a little discussion in the hall, as the crowd realised what I had planned. 

Deshanna nodded, and extended a hand to Sil. Who stepped forward with his package. ‘Your worship, is most kind. On our way, we meet a woman who boasted of taking your worship’s horse. So I bring you these gifts.’ 

I blinked at her,  _ so she’d met Mihris.  _ Moherinal stepped forward, leading the hart a few steps, and gave me a curt nod, and handed me the reins of Deshanna’s hart. I took them without thinking, ‘I…’ I started. 

Moherinal smiled, but it didn’t quite meet his eyes, ‘you  _ always _ did have the Keeper’s hart.’ 

I looked at the gold and white creature.  _ The Keeper gave her hart to her successor. I was not a mage, I was not worthy of her gift. No wonder Moherinal was annoyed, I’d robbed him of his right.  _

Sil stepped forward, with a look at the first as though he was dismissed, ‘Els,’ he whispered and I snapped to look at him, I could barely see him as tears had formed in my eyes. He opened the package, ‘new reins, made them myself.’ He said proudly. With him so close I could see that his newly done blood writing was red and raw against his skin, an extremely recent addition then. 

With my free hand I ran my finger on the embroidered cloth, there were elvish characters stitched into the fabric. I looked up to Sil, ‘this is Torchbearer.’ He said introducing my to my new hart. I dropped the reins and pulled Sil into my arms. Pulling my cousin as close as possible. He laughed and I could tell he trying not to drop the box.

I heard a gasp of the crowd, I was sure I’d broken more than a few protocols but ignored it. ‘Thank Sylaise you’re alive.’ I whispered to him. 

‘Course I’m alive,’ he muttered back, ‘your Lady of Iron saw to that.’ 

When I pulled back from him I looked onto the upper balcony, I saw Vivienne give me a nod and a sad little smile. 


	87. The Dalish Horde

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Solas meets Deshanna, and it goes about as well as can be expected.

The drinks are pouring freely and my clan has seemingly set up in the little courtyard outside of the tavern, surrounded and soldiers and agents and anyone really who is taking the occasion to drink Cabot’s cellars dry. A fire pit had been erected in the centre of the little courtyard, pushing out the winter chill and perfuming the air with the sweet herbs and spices that had been burning since dusk.

I had spent a short time greeting each member of my clan at dusk, before the drinking had begun in earnest. Reuniting had been more taxing that I’d expected. I had touched  _ vallaslin  _ with each of them, foreheads pressed together, each touch burned across my face, and even now I ached.  _ Sweet Sylaise,  _ it was better than the alternative. And I knew I would gladly burn for them all, a willing sacrifice on the pyre. 

A small nervous part of me was reminded of the evening before Haven fell, the sweet, brief celebration before the red Templars attacked. I cannot help the odd glance to the sky. Yet for now it appears that no army is descending, and if it did I prayed that Skyhold’s walls would protect us.

I stepped from the relative warmth of the tavern into the smoke-stained air, I had struggled my way through the tavern and back out again, a monumental task that I congratulated myself for. ‘Keeper!’ I called, three bottles of spirits clutched in my arms. 

Deshanna turned and I handed one to her, then Sil appeared at her shoulder a cheeky smile and a hand outstretched. I could not help but laugh and hand my last bottle over. I had found a figure hiding in the dark corners of the Herald’s Rest and pulled him into the night behind me, ‘you remember Den?’ I asked, half dragging Hunter Dehnan to reunite with his clan. He’d been nervous for the last three days, fretting about what they would think of his six years absence.  _ Would Vael, his darling Vaelatine remember him? Still want him?  _ I’d done my best to reassuring him, but it seemed brute force was needed to overcome the last hurdle.

Keeper Deshanna without missing a beat pulled him into a tight hug, ‘we are blessed that you have come back to us.’ She said, with a pious look towards the sky. Dehnan nodded and brushed the lines on his chin in response. 

As he pulled out of the hug Sil gave him a broad smile, surveying him with a critical eye. ‘Well look what the wolf dragged in, where have you been hiding?’

Dehnan passed a silence glance to me, which Deshanna noticed but her expression didn’t change. ‘I’ve been with Clan Hawen?’ His words came out as more of a question, and I nodded. It was technically a little bit true, better to leave the magic-orb-halla-transformation stuff out of the tale for the moment.

Sil’s eyes widened and he grabbed Dehnan’s hands, ‘did you meet him? What’s he like?’ And the three of us instinctively knew he’s talking of his father Keeper Hawen.

‘Umm,’ Dehnan begins, but is cut off but a shrill scream and an elven woman running at him at full force. Vael knocked him off his feet with a running jump, on the floor she pounded at his chest with both hands. ‘You left me, you…’ then she stopped, sobbed and fiercely kissed him.

I looked between my mother and cousin and the three of us side stepped ten or paces away to leave them to catch up in the relative privacy of a courtyard full of people drinking.

Sil coughed, ‘so what’s he like?’ He insisted again, this time turning to me.  

I glance up at the sky, ‘he’s,’ I frowned, and tried again, ‘he’s sick.’

‘Sick?’ Deshanna asked, and I gave her a look that told them exactly what I was talking about. Her expression changed so that her bow  _ vallaslin  _ appeared taut and ready to fire. Then she relaxed and she scoffed at the ground, ‘Hawen Hawen,’ and rolled her eyes towards the sky. She had never overly approved of her sister’s lover, and it was only another damning stroke on the scoreboard of her disdain for her fellow Keeper.

Though it didn’t seem to have the desired effect as I could see that Sil was taking the revelation to heart.  _ ‘Cremators  _ will burn us all.’ Sil hissed, mispronouncing creators to create the curse that he desired.

Deshanna hissed a warning about the open sky to him, but it was habit rather than a serious chastisement. She wrapped an arm around his shoulder and pulled him towards her. ‘ _ Ir abalas  _ .’ She whispered.

‘He’s nothing like you at all,’ I tried with a reassuring arm pat, ‘he was pretty rude to me-’ I paused as I saw Sil sway on his feet for the bearest of moments. 

Then took a swig from his bottle and looked up at me dryly. ‘Fuck the gods.’ He cursed.

I didn’t say anything, only exchanged a concerned glance with Deshanna, and then looked down at my hand. 

A moment later I feel a hand on the small of my back and I turn to see Solas. ‘Ohh, Solas, this is Keeper Deshanna and my cousin Silver.’

‘Call me, Sil, everyone else does.’ Sil said with a warm smile, and after an awkward moment they shook hands in the  _ shem  _ way.

Solas nodded at him, his blue eyes taking in the _ vallaslin  _ mask, ‘Hellana talks about you.’ Sil took it as the highest compliment.

I smiled at my cousin and his easy charm. ‘And this is Solas,’ I glanced at my mother, ‘he’s the one who made the translation.’

‘Yes, thank you for the translations,’ she paused as though finding the right words, then I noticed she was fiddling with her ring. Twisting it round and round on her finger. Something she only did when she was very nervous. ‘You’re-‘ she broke off.  _ She was never lost for words.  _

‘He’s my-‘ I glanced at Solas, who looked back at me, his face expressionless, but I felt his hand tighten around the fabric on my back.

‘Friend-‘ I decided on, sticking to the most innocent connection.

‘Lover-‘ Solas said at the same time.

I flushed so red the tips of my ears were coloured. I am torn between fury, embarrassment and pride. But I cannot help the flush of annoyance thrown into the mix.  _ Mother Mythal give me strength.  _ I waved a hand as though to say, tell everyone. 

Sil whistled, two fingers in his mouth, loud and clear. ‘And Els made no mention of her new quarry before now.’

‘It would appear that I am unimportant.’ Solas said, the hint of a smile on the corner of his lips as he surveyed Sil.

Sil raised his hands, ‘not if you’ve turned Els’ head.’ Then he frowned and glanced at Solas with a scrutinising look, ‘you like her?’ He asked.

‘She is magnificent.’ Solas replied without a heartbeat’s pause.

If it was possible to blush more, I did. So I covered it my punching Sil lightly on the arm, ‘can you not talk about me like I’m not here.’ I snapped.  

I glanced to Deshanna for backup, and froze.  _ ‘Mamae _ , what is it?’

Deshanna was still worrying the ring on her finger, and then she looked up at me as though seeing me for the first time. Then she clicked her teeth. She sighed, and did something utterly unexpected. She took her Keeper’s ring off her finger, placed it in her pocket and tapped it lightly. Then she looked up at Solas and smiled, but it didn’t reach her eyes. ‘Any…  _ friend  _ of Hellana’s is welcome with my clan.’ She said carefully, choosing my word.

Solas nodded, pleased, as though it was the most formal of invitations. And not the oddest thing she could have said.

I glanced to Sil, utterly confused by her behaviour and Sil only shrugged at me, equally baffled. So after a tense moment Sil responded by flicking me on the ear. ‘Ouch!’ I said smartly, smacking his hand.

‘You going to protect her?’ Sil queried Solas as though nothing odd at all had happened.

‘Impossible,’ Solas replied with a coy smile sent in my direction, ‘she does rather find trouble.’

Sil grinned, laughed and turned to me. ‘He’s got you there.’ Then he turned back to Solas. ‘Let me introduce you.’

Before Solas could protest, Sil had grabbed his wrist and was half marching him towards the rest of the clan, no doubt for further interrogation.

I smiled, ‘I should probably go save him.’ I said.

Deshanna caught my wrist as I stepped forward, and she pulled me back to her, ‘do you,’ she sighed, ‘gods, tell me you still have your knife?’ She asked quietly.

I nodded, ‘I do.’ I said and stuck my leg out a little showing the hilt of the knife that lived in my boot. And I realised it must be the castle, built on the ancient site where the veil had been erected by Fen'Harel, perhaps the weight of this sacred site was affecting her ring or something. ‘The castle’s safe.’ I added trying to placate her unease.

‘Hmm.’ She smiled again, a worried smile, but she let me go to save Solas from the Dalish horde.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, Deshanna knows. The real question is what will she do with the information?


	88. What She Was Like Before

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lavellan, her cousin and Solas have a chat about what Lavellan was like before she got the mark on her hand. And Lavellan has a run in with her First.

It had taken about half an hour for the novelty of Solas to have worn off, his polite but evasive answers to the seemingly unending questions posed by different members of my clan soon robbed them of any interest. I could see that Sera and Blackwall had climbed through Sera’s little room to sit on the overhanging roof, and they had been watching with some amusement, until I’d let slip there was a real-life Red Jenny in the vicinity. Sera had given me half a handful of rude gestures before trudding back inside and slamming the window behind her. So that was how I found myself, sat between the firepit and the tavern with Sil and Solas, largely ignored by the rest of my clan.

‘So then I wake up, bloody _shem_ sword to my throat, and the sodding Nightingale herself is accusing me of blowing up the Temple of Sacred Ashes as though I’m an explosive’s expert and my sodding hand is _bluuuur.’_ I recounted to Sil, waving my hand in the air as though to prove my point. ‘Actually, Leliana is really lovely.’ I corrected.

Sil laughed, rocking back a little in his perch, ‘you survived though,’ he grabbed my hand and plucked at my bracelet, ‘guess I’ll be getting my luck back now?’

I snatched my hand back and cradled it, ‘get off.’

‘Queen of the _shem_ castle.’ Sil whistled, with a bit of a sigh, ‘could have been me, I’d have painted the whole thing silver.’ he said wistfully and then screwed up his face as though he couldn’t imagine anything worse. ‘Els must be completely unbearable now.’ He said as an aside to Solas.

Solas had been considering Sil, silently taking him in and judging the merits of my cousin. Noting the ways we were similar and the ways in which we were different. I’d seen him note the red welts risen up under his new _vallaslin._ ‘Unbearable?’ He asked with a flicker of amusement, ‘quite the opposite.’

Sil made a dismissing hand gesture, while I gave Solas a sly smile.

‘Though, I am curious to hear what Hellana was like before she gained the anchor.’ Solas said, leaning slightly forward.

Sil laughed and the sound was a little ominous, he gave me a wicked grim and I sighed and put my head in my hands. _He’d been handed the perfect opportunity to embarrass me._ Sil lent forward, on his head propped up on his arm as though he was dutifully thinking, ‘what is there to tell?’ He asked, ‘well, she would have made a damn fine Keeper that’s for certain-’

‘Aww thanks Sil-’

‘But.’ _Piss._ ‘she’s got a temper on her, you’ve got to watch for.’ Sil said, wagging a finger at Solas, ‘she will throw things and she does have a good aim.’ He continued as serious as anything. ‘You can tell because her hand will twitch, and that’s when she’s about to stab you. She worries too much, gets all in her own head.’ He tapped his fingers against his skull for a moment, ‘Oh, and have you seen her knife?’

Solas merely nodded.

Sil poked me square in the chest, and smiled knowingly, ‘she’s got a bit of rebel in her, if you know what I mean.’ _Sil had gone too far,_ my hand darted down for me knife, _a warning among friends._ But before I could reach, Sil had grabbed my hand and was showing Solas, ‘what did I tell you, temper.’

I huffed at that. Sil ignored me, while Solas raised an eyebrow in my direction.

‘Els’ sickeningly pious, it’s actually really annoying. How many shrines have you set up so far?’

I crossed my arms, not looking at either of them, ‘one.’ I muttered utterly disliking the turn of this conversation.

‘Only one! You’re getting complacent da’len.’

‘I am three years old than you.’ I snapped, but of course Sil knew there was nothing I hated more than being called _child_ and he was trying to wind me up.

Sil laughed, ‘next you’re going to be telling me you’re taller as well.’

I tried to let it wash over me, it didn’t work. ‘I’m going to kill you,’ I said playfully.

‘Hellana.’ Moherinal’s cold voice dropped over me.

‘Ugg,’ I muttered under my breath. I plastered a fake smile over my face and turned around to see the younger man, ‘First?’ I questioned as innocently as I could.

‘Hunter, I realise that you have been away for a long time, but we do not threaten our clan.’ Moherinal hissed at me, low enough to try to be threatening. Although somehow after facing off against Corypheus, I didn’t have it in me to be intimidated by the man.  

‘No harm, no harm,’ Sil said quickly.

Moherinal flashed him a deeply unhappy look, and then turned his annoyance back to me, ‘just because you are walking around as thought you own the place-’

‘She does, actually.’ Solas interrupted smoothly.

The First’s jaw worked behind clenched teeth. ‘What?’

Solas straightened, his hands knitted together in his lap. His eyes dark and set on Moherinal. ‘The Inquisitor owns the castle,and it’s army of course.’

Moherinal’s spluttered like a fish out of water, ‘how dare… are you… uggg… I’m going to tell Deshanna.’ He said deadly seriously.

I looked at Sil, which was a mistake and we both burst out laughing. ‘Go, tell.’ Sil shooed.

Tears were leaking down my face, and as soon as the First was out of earshot, ‘I didn’t miss him.’

‘Such an arsehole,’ Sil agreed, shaking his head.

‘I apologise, I appear to be making trouble for you.’ Solas said, the barest hint of smile across his features.

‘No, thank you, for standing up for me.’ I replied with an easy smile.

Solas drained his cup and tucked it neatly away before standing. ‘I should get some sleep.’

‘I’ll see you up there?’ I asked, catching his hand as he moved past me. He nodded and dropped a quick kiss to my cheek before he was gone.

I sighed contentedly.

‘Where’d you find him, then?’ Sil asked me

I lay back on the grass to peer up star-studded sky, ‘he saved my life, just turned up.’ I said.

Sil looked at me on the ground and lay back with me, it was almost like old times. ‘He’s from Tevinter, I’d bet gold on it.’

I glanced across, ‘what?’

‘Solas is the name of a city up Tevinter way, up north.’ Sil stretched his legs out so they were propped up against the battlements wall. ‘Didn’t you work it out?’

I laughed, a quick sound, more embarrassed than anything. ‘Didn’t think to ask.’ I replied honestly. _Though that would perfectly explain his extreme animosity with Dorian_.

‘Didn’t - think - to - ask.’ Sil repeated back to me, ‘ _da’len_ you are naive.’

I thumped him hard on the leg, ‘don’t call me _da’len_.’

Sil stuck his tongue out at me. 

I ignored him, but spotting Andruil’s tree in the sky. I raised my hand above my head to trace it, ‘any chance you want to come to Crestwood?’ I asked after a little while.

Sil was watching me, but he shook his head, ‘we only just got here. I’m going to sleep for a week.’ 

I laughed, it was more than fair. ‘When you’re done sleeping, can you do something for me?’

’What?’

I raised my left hand, the green mark pulsed in response and I chuckled at the way it seemed to know when it was being thought about. ‘The orb of Andruil did this, go through the library.’ I pointed up the stairs, ‘double check everything, everything we think we know, find me sources.’

Sil raised an eyebrow, ‘you want me to go hunting?’ 

I nodded. 

‘Can I tell Deshanna?’ He asked a little suspiciously.

The laugh bubbled from my lips, and then I frowned, wondering why he could think it was a secret. ‘Obviously tell her, make copies of anything interesting for the clan.’ I paused, he grinned accepting my request. So I held out my little finger, ‘forewarned.’ 

He took my pinkie with his, and we twisted our fingers together in a promise, ‘forearmed.’ He swore seriously. And then we ducked our foreheads together. The aching burn ripples out to steal the deal. 

‘Happy hunting,’ I told him as I stood and took a step up the stairs to leave for the evening.

‘Hey, Els!’ He called, and I twisted back. ‘You going to leave me to deal with the wrath of the First?’ Sil huffed.

I gave him my best shrug, ‘yep.’  Then winked and waved a hand goodnight. 

 


	89. Dead Mouse

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lavellan is about to head out to Crestwood. But, she wants to make amends with Leliana first, and she thinks she has the perfect gift. Plus some extra bits that didn't fit anywhere else chronologically.

The next morning, I tucked a small document of papers under my arm, hoisted my bow and quiver onto my shoulder and picked up a good sized wooden box tied up with a yellow ribbon. _We were going to Crestwood, but I had a few tasks first._

 

I stood slightly back from Leliana as she spoke quietly to one of her agents. The rookery was still dark this early in the morning, but I could see the candles glowing behind her illuminating her shrine to Andraste. Although the symbolism was lost on me, I didn’t mind admitting that the shrine was beautiful. It was set into the wall with a mirror behind, which cast imposing shadows across the wooden figure. After a few moments Leliana coughed, and I realised it was my turn.

She clapped her hands together in front of her, ‘inquisitor.’ Her voice was tight and a little formal. It was the first time I had seen her since I’d given her the dressing down in front of Mihris.

I smiled, but it was lopsided and a little unsure. ‘Morning, I just wanted this delivered to a good friend.’ I say, popping down the wooden box.

Leliana barely looked down at it. She nodded and glanced at a large black crow that was sat on her desk, or was it a raven, I was never entirely sure on the differences. She frowned. ‘About the other day-.’

‘I’m sorry,’ I said quickly, ‘I shouldn’t have-’

‘No, I was careless-.’ Leliana interrupted back.

I smiled and looked down, ‘well I was angry and I shouldn’t have taken it out on you.’

Leliana nodded slowly, ‘Josephine explained, it was well played.’ Her voice was soft, and she glanced at the box again. And gave me a curious look.

The bird on her desk croaked loudly, almost sarcastically?

Leliana gave it a dark look, ‘oh hush.’ She snapped, before turning back to me. ‘Did you say who the package was for?’

‘It’s already been delivered.’ I said carelessly, with a little shrug.

‘Ohh.’ She gasped, and pointed a single finger to her chest, ‘for me?’

I watched with some amusement as Leliana carefully untied the ribbon, and then had to forcibly scoot the crow over to look inside the box. Her mouth dropped into an ‘o’, and her eyebrows knitted together when she pulled the pale pink object out of the box. ‘It’s a…’ she laughed. It was a stuffed nug, complete with pale blue wings and matching blue satin shoes. I’d seem Krem making one in the tavern, and knew I had to buy her one. ‘Look at his little feet!’ She exclaimed, she propped the little stuffed toy up adoringly on the side of her desk.

‘It’s cute,’ said a male voice behind me, I twisted round to see Mice, the Orlaisan merchant.

‘Oh, Mice, perfect. I was hoping to catch you, would you be interested in another commission?’ I asked and turned back to fish through the little packet of document to find the details for him.

The bird, gave an alarmed sound and flapped its wings. Leliana looked a little frustrated with the thing, and pointed a finger in its direction warningly.

Then suddenly the bird wasn’t a bird. The Lady Morrigan was sat in the birds place, I jumped back in shock, the pile of papers dropping to the ground. Morrigan snatched into the air, behind me. Leliana’s expression hardened.

‘Here is your little thief, Leliana.’ Morrigan intoned in a bored voice. ‘Now give me my letters.’

I spun to see Mice, wide eyed. One hand caught by Morrigan’s and the other halfway in his pocket with a bundle of Leliana’s confidential letters.

I picked up my fallen documents, and folded them back together. _The spy in our midst,_ the one who had stolen my correspondence with my clan. I sighed heavily. ‘You’ve just lost yourself a commission.’ I said darkly. I didn’t know if I was more annoyed that he’d stolen the letters from my clan, or that I didn’t know any other carpenters. I glanced at Leliana, _I trusted her, and I would show her that I trusted her._ ‘Deal him how you see fit.’

Her eyes squinted at Mice for a long moment, ‘as you wish inquisitor.’ _It was probably a better gift than the winged nug._

I saw the sudden terror in Mice’s eyes, he squirmed to get away from Morrigan. But she held fast. Leliana handed her two thick letters on thick parchment which she tucked away into the side of her breast band. 

I nodded at the two women and walked away, the sting of betrayal turning into a heavy stone at the bottom of my stomach.

* * *

 

Taking the long way around to the stables, I managed to find Keeper Deshanna.

‘Little hare,’ she greeted me, her hair was twisted into a knot on the top of her head, ‘you look sad this morning.’ She said cupping my cheek in her palm.

I let out a breath, ‘I wasn’t expecting to be betrayed before breakfast.’ I said a little sullenly.

She rubbed the top of her lip, waiting for me to explain.

I tossed a hand through the air in front of me, ‘nevermind.’ I handed her the little parcel of documents, ‘if you don’t mind, there’s something I’d like you to have a look at for me.’

Deshanna’s whistened fingers opened up the documents and her eyes scanned across the plans that I’d drawn up. And then she gave me a curious glance.

I turned, and pointed toward the tower that I’d picked out as the location for the shrine, ‘over there, I was thinking.’ I said, and turned back to the plans, with a sheepish smile. ‘I traded it for a chantry. Can you go through and check there’s nothing _too_ blasphemous in there.’

She looked over to the tower, and I could her building the structure I’d designed in her mind and erecting it in place. ‘Is it for everyone, or just us?’ She asked after a moment, her fingertips tracing across my plans.

‘Everyone, ideally.’ I said quickly.

‘Oh, well little hare, I doubt the purists would be overly happy.’ Her fingers tracing across some of the more radical elements of my design.

I nod, ‘there is a list in the back, of all the Dalish that are here.’

She pulled the list forward, ‘except, Merrill who will be coming with us. And Mice. He…’ I took a breath and glared at the paper.

Deshanna took a nail, and simply draws a line across Mice’s name, indenting the paper to remove it. ‘Would you mind if I gave the project to Moherinal?’ She asked.

I blinked at her, _why? I think venomously._

My mother smiled at me knowingly, ‘Moherinal is feeling a little _overlooked_ at the moment. I think it would be good to give him something to get stuck into.’

I crossed my arms over my chest, ‘it’s my project.’ I snapped sulkily.

Deshanna cleared her throat and gave me a look, that told me to stop being so childish.

I flushed, ‘it’s a great idea, Mamae.’ I said looking at the ground.

‘I will keep an eye on him, of course.’

* * *

 

Eventually at the stables, I find Torchbearer. The golden a white hart, it gives me a look an evaluating look. I pause for a moment and raised out my hand, allowing Torchbearer to get used to me. Once it is done, I pulled out the green and gold reins that Sil made me. As I am strapping them on, I hear someone approach.

‘Pretty.’

I turned to the unfamiliar voice, it’s Merrill, ‘ _ma serannas.’_ I intoned, thanking her.

She traced a finger with a dirty nail across the golden embroidery, ‘what does it say?’

‘It’s a transcription, not translation.’ I said quickly, a little ashamed of my clan’s lack of language.

Her large eyes glaze over the characters, ‘why _Torchbearer?’_ She asked.

I laughed, stroking the front of the hart’s face, ‘it’s a pun, Hellana means touch.’

Merrill gave me an odd look, ‘I’m sorry, what?’

I falter for a moment, _didn’t Solas say the same thing._ ‘We have an ancient lexicon, it came from there.’

‘Can I see it?’ Merrill asked, hazel eyes looked across at me.

I paused for a moment, only to be interpreted as Blackwall walked into the stable, dropping his kit heavily on the ground. ‘Ready to move out?’

I took Merrill’s arm, ‘when we get back,’ I promised. And turned to Blackwall. ‘Let’s go.’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For reference;  
> Chapter Six - Mice introduced  
> Chapter Ten and Fourteen - Mice joins Inquisition  
> Chapter Forty Six - Letters stolen from Leliana


	90. The Advantages of Blood Magic

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lavellan and the gang arrive in Crestwood and get a little distracted on their mission to find Stroud. They find a town with an odd little mayor and find a group of Highwaymen.

_ Dread wolf take this place _ . I thought miserably as I lead our little group into the outskirts of Crestwood town. It was raining.  _ Was it always raining in this gods forsaken part of the world? _ Damp and utterly miserable, I found a good place to tie up Torchbearer so that we could continue on foot through the little village. The journey had been surprisingly quiet, not even bandits had bothered us. The damp stink of sea and salt, washed over my flesh. My scout armour had chafed against the back of my knees, for my clothes just wouldn’t dry out no matter what I did. 

‘This wet cold just seeps into your bones doesn’t it?’ I heard Blackwall grumble behind me. I completely agreed, and glanced around to see Marina gave him a half smile, before she turned to help Merrill down from her horse. I wasn’t entirely sure we should have brought Merrill with us, she’d flashed me a smile and told me that her Keeper had trained her well, but I couldn’t see how coaxing  _ aravalas _ across difficult terrain or setting up wards to defend against  _ shem _ around camp would overly help us.

‘Hey, Poppy, take a look at this,’ Varric called.  _ Who the fuck was Poppy? _

I realised that everyone but Solas was looking at me expectantly, I scowled, but stepped over to the dwarf, ‘do you name all the elven women you know after flowers?’ 

Varric considered for a second, readjusting Bianca on his back. ‘Are you accusing me of unoriginality?’

‘Yes, I do believe that I am- oh!’ And then I saw why he had called me over. The tendril tops of a fade rift, peeked green and menasing out from the middle of Lake Crestwood. 

‘Does that mean water is draining into the fade?’ Blackwall asked as he righted himself from tying up his horse. He looked grim, dark circles under his eyes and he’d developed a couple small patches in his beard from the stress. 

‘It is unlikely, unless there is a river feeding water into the lake at the same rate,’ Solas answered, looking thoughtful out across the lake that looked black as ink under the heavy grey storm clouds. 

Varric did not look happy at all, ‘so we have to get a boat and row out to it?’ 

‘No, the current will be too strong, we would be pulled into the rift... if we didn’t drown first.’ Merrill countered softly.

‘Cheery thought,’ Marina added and slung a causal arm around her lover’s waist. 

‘Excuse me, who are you?’ asked a tight authoritative voice. 

We turned, and I saw a mid-sized man _ ,  _ with little beady eyes and  _ shem  _ ears too large for his face. I stepped forward and introduced myself. And after a little coaxing it turned out that he was the Mayor of the town, although town might have been overstating the matter. Crestwood village was simply six small shacks clustered together on a damp hill. The man was clearly uncomfortable and kept eyeing Blackwall nervously, his eyes lingering for far too long on the griffon logo that betrayed Blackwall as a Grey Warden. Although the town had survived the blight, so I couldn’t even begin to imagine the kind of horrible memories the man was suffering through.

After what felt like hours of painful prodding, Mayor Dedrick eventually told us that there was a dam flooding the Lake, but that Caer Bronach had been captured by Highwaymen so the controls for the dam were impossible to get to. 

Varric had laughed at this, and told the man in no uncertain terms that there was nothing impossible about the situation. He’s tried to be reassuring, but the Mayor seemed even more unsettled by the idea. 

 

‘We should go to the controls now, drain the lake and close the rift first. Your friend can wait,’ Blackwall argued, his face a little flushed under his patchy beard. 

‘Stroud can help us take the castle,’ Marina defended back, she waved a hand towards the fortress we could see in the distance, ‘we’re probably outnumbered as it is.’ 

Blackwall made an angry little hand gesture at her and turned to me, obviously frustrated, ‘inquisitor,’ he demanded.  _ Gods he looked exhausted, we were already one man down _ . 

Marina spun to me, ‘Hellana, please.’ She said, knowing that I prefered to be called by my name. 

I considered, twisting the little woven bracelet on my wrist as I did so. ‘Let’s go get the Grey Warden then.’ 

 

‘The cave, just up there,’ Marina indicated and glanced around, she was on edge. ‘We’re being watched.’ She added. 

I turned as well, and felt a shiver creep up my back, I couldn’t see anyone. I pulled my bow off my back, and saw Varric instinctively do the same. 

Blackwall paused, ‘what is it?’ 

No one answered him, I saw Solas stood, staring across the a small lake. ‘Do you see anything?’ I hissed at him as I took his side. 

He shook his head, ‘I know this place.’ He told me faintly, ‘so long ago it feels like a dream.’ He twisted as though trying to look for something, but instead pointed at one of the hills, he clawed behind his back for his staff with his free hand, ‘up there!’ He called. 

‘Highwaymen!’ Came a call, and a group of around twenty armoured  _ shem  _ came rushing down the hill. I scrambled up onto a boulder, to better allow my arrows to rain down. I felt the familiar flash of green, and knew that Solas’ had cast a ward across our skin. 

‘Boil, trap and poof?’ Marina shouted to Merrill, who nodded racking her nails down the exposed skin on the back of her leg. Lines of red splashed to the surface.

Blackwall went running, roaring towards the oncoming foes. Bashing his sword against his shield as he did so. 

I heard a stream of curses in Trade and Elvish fell out of Merrill’s mouth, which made me pause for a second. I’ve never even heard half of them, an awful grin spreading across my face as I watched her utterly destroy her targets. Her motions were set to the metronomic regular snapping bolts of Varric’s bianca. 

Blackwalls sword cut the head of the first man he encountered clean off. But then the remaining  _ shem  _ seemed to writhe as they stumbled forward, some of them crying streams of bloody tears. Which gave Blackwall pause. 

Varric shouted, ‘shit! Blackwall get out of there!’ 

Blackwall heard, slung his shield at the closest attacker, the piece of metal cutting deep into the attacker’s neck. Now less encumbered, Blackwall dove across the ground to get away from the Highwaymen, and rolled a little down the hill, becuase coming to a sickening stop against an exposed boulder. 

Merrill rose her staff into the air, and then slammed it down into the ground with surprising force, ‘Dread Wolf take you!’ she screamed and the earth below the feet of the highwaymen cracked and broke into pieces, breaking ankles and trapping the  _ shem  _ together. Twisted roots emerged, snapping limbs and tears them apart. A moment later, Marina’s staff slammed down next to hers and three of them exploded, splattered blood and guts across the field with enough force that it knocked out the last half handful of men. 

Merrill smiled and clapped her hands excitedly, and Marina gave her a smirk and dropped a kiss on her head. 

Blackwall however, was nowhere near as cheerful, he’d taken a face of blood and guts. He stood up, flinging his sword to the ground and wiping the goo off his eyes and mouth with the back of his sleeve. ‘You could have warned me!’ He bellowed back down the hill.  

‘Wow,’ I said a little dazed, my fifth arrow still poised on my bow. I guess Merrill could definitely handle herself, the two of them were battle ready and working in perfect synchronisation. ‘Where did you learn that?’ I asked utterly bewildered at how she’d adapted the spells to smooth the earth to allow the  _ aravals  _ easy travel into offensive magics. 

Merrill sort of shrugged at me noncommittally. 

_ Blood magic,  _ I thought with a moment of concern and glanced to Solas to see what he had to say, but he was glaring daggers at Merrill and Marina. 

Marina seemed to notice and winked at him, ‘think we upstaged him,’ she whispered loudly enough to Merrill that even Blackwall forty paces away could hear. 

Merrill looked back, ‘ _ ir abalas,’ _ she called in a way, that made it clear she wasn’t even a little bit sorry. 

I heard Solas sigh heavily, he turned to me, ‘forgive me. I was distracted, it will not happen again.’ 

‘No harm,’ I said with a smile, tapping his arm reassuringly. 


	91. The Calling?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After taking Caer Bronach, Lavellan really wants to spend the evening off, but not everyone is as relaxed as she is.

I was sat on a crenel in the wall overlooking the courtyard into Caer Bronach, chewing my way through a piece of jerky. Below Blackwall was single handledly dragging the corpses of the Highwaymen out of the Keep. ‘Why’s he doing that?’ I asked Marina who was perched next to me. The rain was helping him, washing the flagstones clean.

‘Man’s got heavy shoulders, some real or imagined penance, I’d bet.’ She said without looking over at me. She was flexing her fingers and jumping a tiny ball of magic light between her fingertips. She’d taken the news that Corypheus could be controlling the calling particularly hard.

Our siege had been a roaring success, and barely five minutes after we’d battered the gates down, the little fortress in the arse end of nowhere belonged to the Inquisition. Though it had taken a few more hours to find and activate the controls that would drain what remained of Old Crestwood. And probably a day for the Lake to drain, so we’d decided to stay the night.

Varric appeared, lending his arms on the merlon two down from me. ‘Harding knows we’re here and we’ll have backup before nightfall.’

I squinted over at the late afternoon sun, but was distracted by Blackwall’s roar as he hacked through one of the heavy Highwaymen banners. It fell to the floor with a whoosh and clatter and he stood back hands on his hips surveying his progress. He noticed his watchers then, and shouted up ‘are you admiring the view?’

 

As the sunset, we were joined by a large band of inquisition agents and we were not longer the front line to holding the castle. Relieved of our duties we moved indoors, finding a large room. With a fireplace. I groaned with pleasure at finally, feeling a soothing blanket of warmth. The damp and drizzle had made it impossible to light a fire in just over a week, I gave a quick glance around the room and decided to leave my replenished stock of Sylaise’s herbs tucked within my pack. The precious offerings would be wasted on all but Merrill, and considering the chimney, they’d be wasted on the two of us as well. I merely nodded my head towards the fire and hoped it would serve as a suitable replacement.

I’d dropped my pack in an empty room a few doors down, about twenty minutes earlier. Solas had found me there, but once I’d begun changing into dry clothes, he’d excused himself with a sweet little blush. I’d rolled my eyes to the ceiling and fished out half empty bottles of spirits that I’d brought with me and one questionable bottle we’d found during the morning, it would serve as a suitable offering to my community.

So that was how I found the common room when I’d returned. Solas looking a little uncomfortable, his eyes darting to the window as though to glare the rain away. But on the side of the room, a little table had been set up. Where Varric was holding court, in his usual fashion. I dropped my bottles in the middle and grabbed an abandoned cup, without the tell-tale blood splatter to mark our invasion on the wall, it would seem as those we were in a perfectly usual tavern. I’d walked straight into the middle of a conversation.

‘So how will this one end, Varric?’ Merrill asked. She sat her back to the corner of the wall, and her legs knotted in front of her with a sort of patchwork blanket across her lap.

Varric gave her an odd look, ‘which one?’

‘Story of the Inquisitor,’ she said rather grandly, and then corrected, ‘or whatever you’ll call this one.’ She answered, with a look towards me.

And I found myself the object of a multitude of gazes. Marina glanced at me, with a sting of pity like I was simply a pawn, to be pushed around the board without agency. Even Solas’ gaze was diverted from the dark glass for the flicker of a heartbeat.

‘It’s simple,’ I said, with far more confidence than I felt, ‘we defeat the big bad guy.’

Varric smiled reassuringly at me, ‘it’s a shame. I do prefer the stories where the villain is the man beside you all along.’

Blackwell seemed to inhale his drink and coughed profusely. Marina looked dark, ‘don’t’ she muttered and slapped Blackwall on the back.

‘Why would you want that?’ I asked, stepped over and taking a place at the table.

Varric leaned back, chest hair on proud display, ‘the best villains don’t see themselves as evil, they’re just fighting the good cause and willing to get their hands dirty.’

‘Who was the villain in Swords and Shields?’ Merrill asked innocent as anything.

Varric flashed her a glance and then looked Marina, ‘ugh you let her read that tripe.’

‘I don’t know what you’re talking about?’ Marina snapped back.

I pulled an unused deck towards me and began shuffling, ‘what’s Swords and Shields?’

‘It was my badly thought through romantic series.’ Varric said quietly, looking a little chagrined. ‘Where’d you find them Daisy?’

‘Cassandra’s room.’ She replied.

‘What.’ At least three of us said in unison.

Merrill shrugged, in what I could only describe as a Hawke-like gesture, ‘I got lost.’

There was a long moment, before I burst out laughing, quickly followed by Varric who found the entire thing hysterical. Marina was trying to hold her nerve and playfully chastised Merrill about wandering into other people’s room before joining us in our humour.

I dealt out the cards as we each agreed to not mention it to Cassandra, which was probably the best strategy for keeping our heads.

 

It was much later into the evening, and Solas had been coaxed into joining us, although he refused to play cards. Simply watching, with a calculating look as though he was paying a game with himself to predict the cards that everyone would use. ‘What does the calling actually feel like?’ I asked Blackwall, softly, trying to understand more of what he was going through.

He only looked down at the table and ran a hand through his beard, tucking at the hair there. So, it was left to Stroud to answer my question, ‘he starts with dreams,’ Stroud was oddly stoic as though he was describing an experience that happened to someone else, ‘then the whispers start in your head. It’s relentless, it lurks like a wolf in the shadows around a campfire.’

And then three things happened at once, Marina reached out to take the bottle of wine, but it fell from her grasp spilling thick red wine across the table, Varric made a grab for it knocking the candle over, which flickered and went out pitching the room into darkness. _And something clawed at my wrist_.


	92. Elvhen Expert

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After a little bit of accidental blood magic, Lavellan realises who Merrill is, but managed to offend her in the process.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Uggg, I've had a cold for the last few days! But I'm finally feeling better enough to stare at a screen for more than ten minutes at a time! (So if this doesn't make any damn sense, I blame the cold!)

_ And something clawed at my wrist _ . I felt a sting on my wrist and then an odd tug under my skin, as though there was a tendril of magic reaching out through my marked hand to grip ahold of my insides. It was the strangest sensation, as I felt the foreign magic invade my flesh. And I knew that it was an instinct, a primal urgent reaction to an threat, something as simple as a snatched hand being taken away from the fire that burnt it. But then a heartbeat later it’s gone. 

 

As all of this happened inside me, I watched a little glowing ball of veilfire flow carelessly from the tips of Solas’ fingertips into the centre of the table, showering light over the area where the candle had stood only moments before. He was watching expressionless, but I noted that there was a tightness in his neck. 

With the burst of light I realised it was Merrill who had scratched at my wrist when the candle had gone out. And I understood, she was a First, the ring around her neck marked her as such.  Stroud’s description of the  _ wolf waiting in the shadows of the campfire  _ had created her innate reaction. I couldn’t even find it in me to call it an overreaction, the logical part of me was grateful that she had reacted when I hadn’t. 

I was about to chastise her for using me as a mana drain, but then I almost laughed at her serious, puzzled expression, ‘What?’ I asked curiously. 

In the blue veilfire light her large hazel eyes were flicking between my marked hand and then down at her fingernails, ever so slightly stained black with my blood. Then she fixed a careful look on me,  ‘your blood tastes like my mirror did’ she said softly. 

_ Dirthamen, Lord of Secrets, want to help untangle that one?  _ I thought as I pushed my lips together, whatever I’d been expecting to come out of her mouth, those words were not it. In the following uncomfortable silence, I noted that Stroud shifted in his seat, while Blackwall busied himself trying to mop up the spill on the table, doing anything to avoid looking at Merrill. 

‘Merrill?’ Marina asked slowly after a moment, with a deeply concerned look, her eyebrows twisted together. 

I looked down at the tiny marks on my wrist, the cuts were hardly deep, only four thin red lines, with three or four pin pricks of blood bubbling up.  _ It was such a superficial cut.  _

Varric frowned, and in a rush of sudden movement he was on his feet, stepping around the room lighting torches on the wall to cast the darkness away. He was muttering under his breath about blood magic and daisies, but it was mostly lighthearted. 

‘May I see your hand?’ Merrill asked me, shaking off Marina’s worried hand and utterly ignoring the two Grey Warden’s utterly baffled looks. Marina is breathing something about being careful with her magic in public, but calmed down when it was clear that I was mostly unconcerned by it. 

Merrill was looking at me like I’d seen Sera look at pots of honey, I opened my mouth to protest, but then I sighed.  _ Anything she could tell me might be useful.  _ And so I placed the shuffled deck of cards I was holding onto the table, neatly avoid the remnants of the puddle of split wine, and gave her my left hand. 

Merrill held my hand up to the magical lights still floating over the table, and traced a finger over my palm, and I flinched back.

I shook my hand in the air and gave her a shrug of apology, ‘tickled.’ I muttered, before returning my hand to her grip. I threw a look to Solas, he was leaning forward on the table, hand knitted together and eyes narrowed at the other elf.

Merrill for her part was utterly obvious to everyone else, she tilted her head to examine my hand and then I felt a new exploratory tendril of magic pushing against the mark. She continued until the mark glared green and she closed her eyes. Then she sat back, and the puzzled look was back. ‘It’s connected to  _ something _ ,’ she tapped her hand on the wooden table, squinted at the mark as though it would reveal all of it’s secrets. ‘Since it closes rifts, I can assume it’s like the fade, but it’s constructed, like my mirror. It isn’t natural. It’s trying to go somewhere, but it can’t, it’s in your hand.’ She suddenly sat up, a flush appeared across her face, ‘I’m rambling.’ 

‘Go on,’ I whispered, as nothing less than a ten thousand gold pieces would have convinced me to stop her speaking. 

She met my eyes and nodded briefly, ‘it’s there, but it isn’t ‘Rina, it’s all wrong,’ Merrill grumbled flashing her eyes backwards to Marina Hawke, but then in a flash of inspiration she grabbed my hand again and I felt a more forceful prod of magic from her, and her eyes narrowed. ‘Can it be? It’s Elvhen!’ She announced with a bolt. 

‘Yep,’ I confirmed, ‘Orb of Andruil did this.’ 

‘I didn’t know that,’ Merrill said a little perturbed, but then she frowned, ‘no, not Andruil.’ 

I let out a little scoff, and I raised an eyebrow, ‘and how do you-’

‘I’m an expert.’ Merrill said puffing up her chest, and giving me a sheepish smile, her eyes dazzling in the orange firelight. 

‘On Andruil?’ I queried slowly.  _ Gods are finally looking down on me! _

‘On all things Elvhen.’ Marina corrected for Merrill, leaning forward to wink at me.

The pieces clicked into place and I couldn’t believe that I’d missed it. I pulled my hand back too excited for real words, ‘Merrill Sabrae!’ I whispered utterly starstruck. I’d heard of her, and of course I knew her by reputation. But my giddly little smile was wiped off my face by her crushing reaction. 

Merrill shook her head violently, pulling away from me as though I had became possessed by a demon, ‘No… yes… well no, not anymore. I left.’ She stood up and swept away from the table and then paused at the door. Hands clenched into fists at her sides, shoulders visibly shaking from the other side of the room. ‘I gave up my name, I wasn’t  _ unnamed _ .’ She said grimmly, before flinging the door open and leaving. 

I sat like I’d been struck by lightning, eyes wide, as Marina ran after her. It was only after what felt like year of shocked silence did Varric helpfully venture, ‘she doesn’t like talking about her old clan.’ 

‘I can see that,’ I said shaken and I glancing at the door where she’d left. ‘What happened?’ 

Varric took up the deck of cards that I’d abandoned, ‘honestly, it’s all in  _ Tale of the Champion _ .’ 

I gave him a rueful smile, ‘I never read it.’ I confessed. 

Varric flicked a hand towards the door, ‘so you didn’t know who Merrill was then?’ 

I shrugged, ‘Merrill is a common name.’ 

He sighed wearily and simply began dealing the cards out to the five of us that remained, starting an impromptu game of Wicked Grace. 

‘No,’ Solas muttered, handing his cards back to Varric with a swift sharp look. 

Varric shuffled his cards back into the deck. ‘If you need me to teach you how to play-’

‘Is it always like this?’ I heard Stroud whisper to Blackwall. Blackwall only shrugged swiping up his cards. 

Varric took a long swig of his drink, ‘so one day on Sundermount…’


	93. Silverite

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lavellan can't quiet believe the tale that Varric's spun, but then there's quite a lot that Lavellan doesn't seem to know!

‘ _Asha’bellanar_ ,’ I scoffed under my breath and backed up against the vanity table in the bedroom we’d claimed. ‘Not just a witch of the wilds - _the witch of the wilds._ ’ Varric had told us that _Merrill had not only met the legendary witch, but brought her back to life_. I picked up a little glass perfume bottle and spun it in my hands, wondering who this room had belonged to.  I glanced up, Solas was lent against a windowsill, listening to my little rant with good humour.

‘Perhaps Master Tethras has engaged his talent for hyperbole.’ He said after a long moment.

I tossed the little bottle up, into the air, swiped out to catch it. And missed. It landed luckily with a heavy thump on the rug and rolled away from me. I grimaced at it, but let it go. ‘You think Varric lied?’ I queried.  

The edge of Solas’ mouth twitched up in a smile, ‘I did not say that.’

I smiled, but looked up at the ceiling. _Guess I need to find a copy of Tale of the Champion, make sure there were no other surprises waiting for me_. Another thing to add to the growing list of things that I needed to accomplish. ‘At least Varric didn’t take her ears.’ I said bitterly with a sigh, and pulled my hands through my hair.

‘Hmm?’ Solas questioned lightly, sweeping from his spot against the wall and coming to sit on the bed.

‘He didn’t put her in _shem-skin,_ Merrill, in his book _.’_ I tilted my head to him, with a disparaging look, _really?_ ‘I mean, she also kills her possessed Keeper, and,’ I shrugged, ‘guess it wouldn’t make sense otherwise.’

‘Ahh,’ he said after a long moment, but didn’t seem to have anything further to say.

‘Do you know what they call the _Warden,_ the Warden?’ I asked quickly.

Solas looked up, a quizzical look passing across his face, ‘I am sure you are about to tell me.’

I crossed my arms, and considered throwing one of the other little perfume bottles at him, but the thought passed. ‘They call her _the Warden,_ because she’s from Merrill’s clan. Well, Merrill’s old clan.’

He mirrored my pose, crossing his arms lightly, eyes like silverite. ‘And how did you learn this?’

I leaned forward, ‘I’m a Hunter, it’s my job to know these sort of things.’ My words were conspiratorial. ‘It’s always good to keep a track of what we’re doing.’

I got an eyebrow raise for my efforts, I suspected he disliked my usage of _we_ to describe all the elves. Which annoyed me, so I huffed, ‘clearly you’ve never had to explain to a tear-stained _da’len_ with no magical talent that there are more options in this world than _hearthmistress.’_ Then I sighed, and looked up at the ceiling, ‘no offence.’ I muttered to Sylaise, on the odd chance she might be in ear-shot. _The Dalish trade_ , we called it stay and keep your name, or leave and risk losing everything. I paced a couple of steps back and forth. ‘I’m under no illusions, give it a hundred years and I’ll probably be called Inquisitor… _Treh-vell-eh-an.’_ I cupped my hands around my ears to hide them, and then dropped my hands into my lap, and gave Solas a coy look. And put on my best Wycome accent, ‘good little _shem-_ Andrastrian. Always wanted to be a chantry sister of course.’ Then I dropped the act and shook violently.

Solas had been watching mutely, then he barked a laugh that echoed my bitter sound, ‘well it happens to the best of us.’

I flashed him an odd look, he hadn’t grouped the elves in general together since before we got to Skyhold, and it was that night that he’d warned me that we as elves needed to be above reproach. I sighed, and sat back down on the corner of the vanity table.

We exchanged a dark look, there really was nothing more to say on the subject. ‘You’ve been quiet this evening.’ I noted with a shrug.

Solas knitted his fingers together and his eyes flashed dark for a moment, ‘There are interesting memories in the place’ His tone was careful.

I pulled my knees up to my chest and wrapped my arms around them, _my curiosity was piqued_ , ‘what sort of memories?’

He reached a hand out to me, and I slipped down to the floor and crossed the room to him. Through the window, I watched him trace invisible lines across the ground. ‘The sea used to be higher, and the coastline touched this far inland. It cut across here.’ His fingers traced a line cut across the centre of the courtyard below, and despite the dark sky, the memory of turquoise waters lapped gently within Caer Bronach’s walls. I could hear the rolling ebb and flow of the calm sea, and almost taste the hint of salt on the air.

I glanced across surprised, _I hadn’t realised we were in a dream,_ but then I looked back down at the memory of waves. _It wasn’t my dream._ ‘Is this a memory?’ I whispered instead, although I was sure that I knew the answer, spreading my hands across the cold windowsill to get a better view. The sea waters glowed bright and sunlight, which looked utterly odd against the midnight black sky. _What else had he found in the fade?_

‘Yes,’ Solas said softly, and I felt him shift a little behind me.

‘It’s beautiful,’ I muttered, craning my neck to get a better view of the sea that had long since disappeared. ‘When was it like this?’ I asked without looking back.

‘A long time ago, I believe that Ghilan’nain kept a summer residence here.’

I spun around, I could feel my heart throbbing in my neck, half panic and half excitement. ‘What?’ I hissed, _there were no ancient ruins here, not this far south east._

Solas looked past me, his expression tight and guarded, ‘it is where she crafted her sea creatures.’

I pulled a hand through my hair, suddenly unsure. _Ghilan’nain had walked here, been here._ I shook my head, trying to get my thoughts into an order. ‘What happened?’ I asked.

He looked at me then, and his expression softened. ‘The veil came down.’

‘Yes,’ I agreed, looking down my cheeks staining pink, ‘I meant to ask what happened to her residence.’

‘Ahh, it sank.’

‘Ohh.’

His answer only brought forth a thousand new ones. I ranked my hand through my hair, ‘I can’t believe that Ghilan’nain was-‘ I froze, there was a sharp crack. The perfume bottle that I’d dropped onto the floor had been crushed underfoot by a woman.

I hadn’t seen her come in, nor approach, but behind Solas was a tall woman. Elf ears poking out from under braided hair. Dark-skinned, and richly attired in pale violets and silvers. She tilted her head at me and narrowed her large eyes.

I opened my mouth to say something but found that no words would come. A knowledge from deep in my bones sprang forth that there were no ways to describe this woman adequately, at least not in any language that I knew. _Was that Ghilan’nain? A memory of her perhaps, conjured forth as I spoke her name?_

‘Hellana?’ I heard Solas ask, his voice sounded extremely far away, and I couldn’t look at him. I was transfixed upon the woman.

Atop her head, she had been crowned with a towering headdress of halla-horns, which shimmered as she straightened her head, like silverite in impossible sunlight. Then slowly blinked large lavender eyes at me and flashed me a broad smile. Glittering white teeth bared. Instinctively I put my hand to my throat.

Solas turned, and she was gone, before he could even lay his eyes on her. He twisted back to me, a question on his lips.

‘A woman?’ I said, though the word was more of a question. _A goddess?_ I blinked as though I expected her to return. _But if she was just a memory, why did she look at me like that?_

After a couple of heartbeats, I expected Solas to tell me I’d finally completely lost the plot. But he looked unsettled and racked a hand across his scalp. Then gently touched his hand to my cheek. ‘It is not safe here.’ He sighed, with an air of finality.     

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Am I the only one who thinks that Lavellan and Trevelyan sound really similar? (Or am I just mispronouncing them haha!)


	94. No Use Crying Over Spilt Perfume

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lavellan questions the identity of the woman from her dream, was it a vision, a memory, a demon? And she concocts a plan to win Merrill over.

When I woke up, I could smell the heavy scene of crystal grace and honey floating heavily in the air. I wrinkled my nose and sat up, _I was alone_ . A little dazed by a night dreaming-awake, I shook my head. Was I still dreaming? No, a glance around the room allowed me to spy a smashed glass bottle on the rug by the vanity table. I frowned at it and the image of the woman in the dream came flooding back. _But hadn’t I dropped the bottle the night before?_ Hadn’t I? I couldn’t honestly remember. I rubbed at my eyes.

The perfume assaulted my senses again. _Who wanted to wear that?_ I stood to open the window, then I turned back to the empty room, a hand on my hip. _Hmmm._ I bent down to collect the smashed pieces of glass, and laid them gently the vanity table. _The woman from my dream had stood on it, but how could that be possible?_

It was a dream, I decided resolutely. I was just an idiot who’d dropped a perfume bottle and had a fanciful dream, no mysterious meanings. With a growing sense of certainty, I dressed quietly. _Forget about dreams, I have living elves to concern myself with._ I sat down by the vanity table and examined my reflection in the large disk of polished bronze. I ran my fingers through my hair, using them to pull apart the tangles as best I could. There was no trace in my features of the relentless weariness that I felt in my bones. I tilted my head from side to side, I was still, boringly me.

The woman in the mirror scoffed at me, what really had I been expecting? Horns? I turned from it.

I’d really messed things up with Merrill the night before, she’d told me in Skyhold how she’d left her clan. But I hadn’t thought. I cursed my own foolishness, but how to make amends with Merrill? I wouldn’t insult her by appealing to her sense of shared-elven kinship, I decided. That was as likely to backfire as work, but then again. _Maybe you could take the woman out of the clan,_ I tapped my fingers against the wooden table. A plan forming. I’d need thread. I glanced around the room, from the looks of it, the previous occupant had belonged to a woman. Surely there would be… perfect.

 

I tore open the embroidery kit that I’d found tucked away in the bottom drawer of the vanity table, and fished inside to find lengths of red and orange thread. Red for Sylaise and orange for June. I measured them out, using my outstretched arms. I bit through the threads to cut them, and using my thumb, I looped a knot around the centre to create a half-arm span cord with six dangling threads. Hooking the loop over a loose screw in the drawer, I began the slow work of braiding the threads together. _June, Lord of Crafts, guide my hands._

 

It was some time later, and my fingers ached with the effort of weaving the complicated dancing chevron patterns into the long red cord. I was almost finished when there was a little knock at the door, and it creaked open.

Picking up a pin, I marked my place so that it wouldn’t unravel. And I turned to the door, ‘Solas.’ I smiled. _Where did you go?_

‘What _are_ you doing?’ He asked, an eyebrow raised at my morning’s work, as he placed down a steaming cup to my left.

I laughed, ‘something terribly Dalish.’ _I’m sure you wouldn’t approve._ I thought but didn’t say.

He tilted his head without any recognition of what I was creating. I suppressed a smile. _Sweet man._ ‘The lake has fully drained,’ he said instead, moving my thoughts to Old Crestwood. ‘The Warden,’ he grimaced and clarified, ‘Blackwall, had found older maps of the village.’

I grimaced, I didn’t fancy spending the morning picking through the flooded village. It was a remnant of the Fifth Blight, beyond the fade rift in the mines, I didn’t doubt that we’d find plenty of nasty things there. ‘Grand,’ I muttered under my breath, trying to keep the irritation out of my voice, it was Solas’ fault.  I glanced down impatiently at the cord. ‘Weird dream last night.’ My tone as conversational as I could manage.

I saw his fingers grip a little tight around his mug for a moment, ‘what did it offer you?’ He asked, eyes dark as obsidian.

I glanced up shaken, ‘it?’

‘The figure that appeared to you.’ He clarified, perching on the edge of the table. Watching me with intense eyes. ‘The figure that did not appear to me.’

I briefly looked at myself in the mirror, and I buried the slight smile that stained my face, _was that a hint of jealousy?_ ‘Do you think it was a demon?’ I asked instead.

‘The fade is full of many dangerous beings,’ he sighed, and repeated, ‘what did it offer you?’

‘Nothing.’

‘Ahh,’ he looked over at the open window, and then back to meet my eyes. ‘As it did not reveal itself to me, it is probably not be trustworthy.’  

I nodded, _not Ghilan’nain._ I told myself stubbornly, but I didn’t quite convince myself. But I trusted Solas’ judgement on all things relating to the fade. ‘Probably not trustworthy.’ Then I smiled, a little wearily, but smiled nonetheless, ‘that would be my first demon.’

‘Make no deals you are not prepared to follow through, and trade nothing you would not give up gladly.’ Solas said grimmly.

‘So the same as this side of the veil?’ I asked, and flashed him my best grin. Then I leaned a little closer to him, ‘why here, do you think?’

He set his mug firmly down on the table and stood, pacing across the room to pick something out of his pack. Three heartbeats later he was back at the table and spreading a map out. With one hand he pointed out carefully symbols marked in a neat hand, ‘the veil is thin here.’ He tapped twice over the little bay where Crestwood was situation, next to it a tiny circle with an ‘x’ through it had been recently inked there. ‘It makes it easier to get across from both sides.’

‘Bet the open rifts don’t help,’ I added, studying his map. It had little symbols next to everywhere that we’d been since Haven, and a few locations that I guessed he’d been before. They marked a careful journey through southern Orlais, into the Korcari Wilds and up to Haven.

‘No, closing them will ensure the integrity of the veil.’ He stood then quickly, as though dismissed. I frowned after his disappearing figure. _I’d give a bag of gold for his thoughts._

‘Well,’ I said into the empty room. I looked down at the mostly braided cord, if I stopped it would unravel and waste the time that I’d put into it. As my hands worked, I considered the demon, without saying anything it was impossible to understand its motives. Maybe, Sloth, I’d heard they were good as disguises.

 _Unless it was Ghilan’nain,_ a mocking little voice in the back of my head said suddenly. I shifted, looking down at the broken glass on the edge of the table. _The veil was thin here._ Suddenly struck by a new terrible thought, _was the veil thin enough here that she could break through?_ I shook my head, willing myself not to think about that, the consequences would shatter the world as we knew it.


	95. The Forest of Demons

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> No one said leaving Crestwood would be easy, particularly not when the group gets ambushed and Lavellan gets wounded. But there are more than bandits lurking about Crestwood.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW - animal death (kinda)

I slumped low in Torchbearer’s saddle, the rain had thankfully stopped and after a week of trudging through mud and grime and corpses, Crestwood was disappearing behind us. I felt a sting of pity for the agents that we were leaving behind in Caer Branoch, but pushed it away and looked out at the horizon. Stubbornly quiet, I chewed some dried strips of meat, and watched Solas riding in front speaking quietly to Varric. I glared daggered into both of their backs, they were trading some story about being stranded on an island and I’d have happily left both of them on an craggy spit of land and returned to Skyhold without them. Not that Varric had overly done anything wrong, but Solas had barely spoken more than half a handful of words to me in days. His silence stretched out between us, like an ocean. 

Torchbearer, stopped suddenly, a small pack of opportunistic bandits had appeared on the path ahead of us, and I called to the group to arm themselves.

Blackwall twisted back in his saddle, reaching his sword from his pack, and rode closer to me to protect my flank. ‘Inquisitor,’ he warned not realising that I’d already spotted them. 

‘I see them.’ I returned, pulling my bow from my shoulder, my hand was drawn behind my head as I saw an arrow flying directly at me. I froze, unable to command my limbs to move from the danger quickly enough. My vision flashed green for a moment. And I saw from the corner of my eye that Blackwall that grabbed at Torchbearer’s reins, sharply tugging the hart towards him and air in front of me exploded in a shattered sound. 

Torchbearer bucked and the world tipped the wrong way up. 

‘Forgotten ones take their names!’ I heard an angry Merrill shout in the foggy distance. 

I tried to sit up, but two hands pushed me back. ‘Did we get them?’ I asked groggily, and rubbed a hand against my head. The back of my head was wet.  _ Fuck.  _

Golden thread weaved its way through the torn skin at the back of my head. Knitting the wound back together with slim tendrils of yellow light. I felt the warmth, and then the cold. It felt better, and worse. Elfroot potion on my tongue. Whispered voices above me, to go back to Crestwood or to carry on. ‘Skyhold,’ I tried to say but my voice rasped and I couldn’t make myself understood. 

 

_ The forest was unlike any forest I’d ever seen. The wild grass practically glistened as though it was made of twisted strands of coloured glass. Jewel coloured butterflies danced in the air, and I could hear the sweetest music drifting on the air. I stepped forward, following the symphony. The thicket cleared, leading to a clearing.  _

_ To the far side of the clearing, stood a large emblazoned pavilion. I stepped forward, my feet moving without my command, I was drawn towards it. I saw a great number of people, in costumes that I didn’t recognise. Garb so colourful, I thought would render every Orlesian paralyzed with jealousy. I spun around, the music throbs seemingly from the forest itself, and underneath all of that, I could hear the relentless throb of the sea crashing on the shore somewhere close. Almost taste salty kisses in the air. A forest so close to the sea?  _

_ Then I noticed the figure, a tall woman crowned in halla horns. It was as if the trees themselves bent in her direction, paying silent homage. She was sat raised on a dias in the pavilion on a twisted seat that looked as though cream coloured tree roots had been twisted together. Her hand twisted by her face as she surveyed the mass gathered before her. I stepped closer still to get a better look, and it was then I noticed beside her was a dark tortured metal throne. In stark contrast beside her sat a pale woman, looking almost deathly pale. But her eyes, hawklike, flashed the colour of honey above a sharp expression carved into her face.  _

_ The halla-horned woman picked out a subject from about her, and a young woman, no older than Cole stepped up between the two and dropped to her knees. Words, I didn’t understand were exchanged before the woman stood and stepped forward.  _

_ I hadn’t see it before, but my stomach twisted to recognise a small floating purple sphere. Though of course, I had never seen it before, I knew in my bones it was Dehnan’s orb, Ghilan’nain’s orb? The woman glanced back to the enthroned couple nervously, then reached out an unsteady hand and placed her palm over the orb. As she touched it and her shape convoluted, twisted and bubbled. The music died in an instant, and although it was silent, I felt the screaming ripple of agony explode from the orb. The grass folded away from the orb, seemingly hiding itself. Yet the crowd of people was utterly unbothered, unconcerned.  _

_ A tiny white hare was left in her place. Andruil’s sacrifice, I thought as my the forest’s symphony picked up again, masking the pounding of my heart in my ears. Despite being two hundred paces away, I could see the hare’s nose twitch. _

_ The woman from the metal chair stood, barked a harsh command and the little hare bolted. Was this Andruil?  _

_ Sprinting through the crowd the little hare darted and weaved through legs and under skirts before rushing past me, leaving only a trail of bright white in its wake. I turned to watch it as the crack of a bow sounded. The cruel sound echoed across the trees. The hare dropped to the ground, an arrow sticking straight through its neck. A sacrifice taken.  _

_ Laughter bubbled from the pavilion and I backed up, only to find myself slamming into a solid shape. It was the woman who had wielded the bow, I had not seen her move. Nor had I seen the tell-tale sparks of a fade shift, then I reminded myself, this was a dream and the waking rules did not apply.  _

_ She spoke, and I recognised the words as elvish but spoken too rapidly for me to even begin to translate it. Instead I studied her slim face, her hair was black and braided elaborately around her face, to show of thin pointed ears. Thin red lips studied me with a disgusted expression. Despite elven features I briefly considered how much the woman looked like Morrigan.  _

_ ‘Well, well, well,’ she spoke, this time in Trade and I started in hearing words I could understand, ‘and who are you?’ She drew a slim finger into the air, with a red metal bracelet clattering on her wrist and she traced a line across the  _ vallaslin  _ on my forehead. My face exploded into a deep burning agony. It took all of my will to not cry out. I ground my feet against the earth and tried desperately to think despite the pain.  _

_ ‘You wear my mother’s marks, and yet,’ her eyes dropped down to my left hand. She snatched my left hand up, and licked the green mark that tore down the centre of my palm. Her face twisted as though she’d eaten something bitterly sour and she spat onto the twisted glassy grass. ‘Who do you serve?’ She snapped at me.  _

_ ‘I,’ I began, the words forming in my mouth although I utterly unsure of what I was going to say. Was this Andruil, or was it as Solas had said, a spirit, a demon or two ready to trick me. I glanced at the woman before me and I knew it must be a demon, I thought decidedly, my dreaming mind had obviously conjured an image of Morrigan into the scene. I almost laughed at how easily I had been fooled, but of course, there was no good reason for Andruil to look anything at all like Morrigan.  _

_ The demon who masqueraded as Andruil sneered, and glanced to her right. And I blinked to find the halla-horned demon beside her. ‘You are sure this is the right one?’ _

_ ‘I am, vhenan.’ Her voice was sickly sweet, but the honey dripped away as she faced me. ‘Is that how you greet a goddess?’ _

_ But luckily before I could move they were gone, and the dream faded.  _

 

It was dark. And cold. I sat up, blinked into the blackness. 

‘Good you’re awake.’ Blackwall’s gruff voice came from a few paces away. 

I blinked, and as my eyes adjusted to the gloom I could make out his shape, we were in a large Inquisition tent. I was on a cot of some kind, and the unpolished Grey Warden was sat on a chair. ‘Where are we?’

‘Hinterlands. Roughly.’ He replied, ‘you’ve been in an out for two days.’ 

I rubbed my eyes, I felt like I’d been asleep for a year and could sleep for a week. ‘Right.’ I said slowly, briefly remembering the time when I didn’t have crazy dreams _.  _

Blackwall stood, ‘Sera’d kill me if I’d let anything happen to you.’ 

It hurt when I snorted, ‘she’d only fill your bedroll with bees.’ 

I thought I could hear him smile, ‘I’ll tell the others you’re awake.’ 


	96. Bold Faced Lie

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lavellen catches up on what she's missed while she'd been knocked out. And makes up with Solas, but aren't there always more questions than answers?

It was a few minutes later when Marina Hawke crept into the tent, followed by a yawning Varric. Marina handed me mug of something viscous and looking remarkable like nug stew. I gave her a questioning glance with she only replied with a quick smile and a tilt of her head. I felt a sting of hunger and gladly took the mug from her.

She perched on the side of the cot, ‘would have sent Solas, but he’s been fussing over you for two days. Blackwall only just bullied him to get some sleep an hour or so ago.’

I gave her a quick smile, ‘right.’

‘You gave us a real scare there, Poppy.’ Varric said, taking the seat the grey warden had been occupying only a few minutes earlier, his playful chastisement only stung a little around the edges.

I glanced away, was vegetable stew, a little disconcerted that his nickname of Poppy had stuck. Maybe I needed to wear less red? I tried to tuck self consciously at my cowl, but it was gone. I glanced to find myself stripped of leathers and light mail, and was only wearing the light undershirt and leggings. 

Marina laughed, ‘it wouldn’t have made a good end to your story? Inquisitor killed by stray arrow.’

‘Stray arrow?’ Varric retorted, ‘no, it isn’t quite the victorious ending I was planning.’ He said with a wink at me.

‘Glad to know I have a happy ending in store.’ I said, glancing between the two.

Varric shrugged, ‘victorious.’ He corrected and I frowned.

‘Grand.’ I said through a mouthful of stew. It was vegetable. ‘Wait,’ I set the mug down onto the floor beside the cot, ‘not that I’m not happy, but how am I alive?’

Marina knocked her head back and laughed. But it was Varric who answered, ‘you’ve got Blackwall to thank, he grabbed your wierd horse’s-’

‘Hart,’ Marina corrected.

‘Whatever’s reins and the arrow bounced off an antler rather than your skull.’ He finished, with barely a glare at Marina for the interruption.

Unconsciously I touched my hand against my forehead. ‘And Torchbearer?’ I asked, suddenly very worried.

‘Bolted, Merrill went after her.’ Marina said, but then I noticed her twist her hands together, ‘not back yet. I’m sure she’s fine.’ She added as an afterthought more to herself than the rest of us.

Varric patted her hand reassuringly, ‘the scariest thing in these woods is Daisy.’

Marina made a sort of non-commital sound, and glanced behind her as though expecting Merrill to walk through the tent at that moment.

After a couple of tense heartbeats, Varric tapped his thighs, ‘so, should be back to Skyhold in six days.’

‘Good,’ I said quickly, ‘were you able to send word onto Leliana to track down the missing Mayor?’

Varric nodded, ‘Stroud’s gone on ahead, he’ll pass on the message and brief the others before we get there.’

‘So they’re nothing left for me to do, then?’ I queried, feeling lighter than I had for the whole week we’d been in Crestwood. Between the flooded remains of Old Crestwood, the dragon and the general decay of the place, I was utterly glad to leave.

Marina looked at me very seriously, ‘there is one thing actually.’

My heart dropped.

Then she winked at me, a broad grin spreading across her face, ‘don’t die.’

I gave her a look and let out a shaky breath, ‘I will try not too.’

The canvas of the tent shone with an orange hue as the sun rose above the horizon. Varric and Marina had left me with the command to try to get some more sleep, but I wasn’t able to. There was a chill in the air, that drifted in though the slight gap in the joining of the tent. It wasn’t the breath of Winter that had wrapped me in a blanket since I’d stumbled out of the explosion at the Temple, but rather the first gasp of Spring. As the golden light of dawn stumbled through the thin canvas of my tent, as did the man who had called me his heart.

He paused, hand on the tent flap, considering for a moment.

‘Are you talking to me again?’ I asked, which came out a little more bitter than I had hoped for.

He breathed in sharply, and stepped fully into the tent. Like a sacrificial hare, unable to avoid talking about this. Solas stood, uncertain, his arms clasped behind his back.

I suppressed my urge to smile reassuringly, instead I simply raised an eyebrow.

‘You’re awake,’ he said after quite a few heartbeats.

I frowned, ‘everyone keeps saying that, really think an arrow could stop me?’ I was teasing now, but my words were washing over him.

‘An arrow? No, but the rock you fell on almost did.’ His tone serious, chastising.

Unconsciously, I touched the half-healed wound on the back of my head. I noticed that my hair had been wrapped up, braided out of the way. I wondered briefly, who had done that, and why I hadn’t noticed before now.

He moved a little closer, ‘may I?’ Solas’ voice was soft, as though he was trying to keep a halla from bolting.

I frowned a little, but turned to allow him to examine the wound.

‘Madame de Fer would be able to do a better job, but if Blackwall had not-’ he broke off.

I twisted around, he looked stricken. I cupped his cheek, ‘I’m alive.’ I said making him look at me. ‘I’m alive,’ I repeated in a whisper.

He nodded, his lips pursed.

Despite the burn of my  _ vallaslin  _ , I pushed my forehead to his.

Two heartbeats later, I felt his hand snake out to my hip, and I smiled despite myself. Whatever the last week had brought it was forgiven. Through the blood and mud of the last week, through the nightmares, we’d somehow survived. I reached out to pull him in for a long overdue kiss.

‘Crestwood was dangerous, the mark seems to function as a beacon in the fade.’ Solas confided.'I thought if I left you alone then you would be safer.'

I laughed a little, ‘all that fuss over a demon?’

Maybe, I imagined it, but I saw a flicker of concern brush against his features, before he said ‘ahh, yes,’ he glanced backwards to the opening of the tent. ‘Just a demon.’ He concluded without looking at me.

_ He’s lying.  _ I thought with a terrible certainty.  _ Fuck.  _ I stared at the green mark that cut through my palm.  _ Who do you belong to?  _ I thought at it uselessly.

‘Will you tell me if you see the-’ I felt his hand tighten against my skin, ‘demon- again?’

‘Of course,’ I said, certain behind my own bold faced-lie.

I expected him to call me out on my lie, I was expecting a knowing look or at least a resigned sigh. But Solas nodded resolutely, and I felt a sting of guilt at deceiving him. Sil had always told me I was a bad liar, I blushed too quickly and let my hands do half of my talking for me. I laced my fingers together in my lap, and just as I was feeling that my training in the Game was finally working, the mark on my left hand flared. I grimaced, and looked down at it.  _ Bloody stupid mark, giving the game away.  _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Notes on characterisation -  
> I don’t know if my characterisation for Solas makes too much sense, but here’s my theory from my most recent play through. He’s so damn quiet, like every time I’m waiting for him to volunteer some information, there’s just nothing. If he’s specifically asked, he might give a long rambling monologue. But it’s actually pretty rare (outside Haven/Skyhold). I don’t think he is ignoring Hellena, he just isn’t a big unprompted talker. Probably all that time being on his own, he just doesn’t feel the need to share his thoughts, and a lot of those thought might give too much of the game away. Hellena on the other hand is used to sooooo much noise from everyone in her clan so just assumes he’s ignoring her or brooding or something like that.


	97. The Binding of Merrill

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lavellan realises that sometimes alliances are hard won, sometimes its a simple as tying a knot.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Foreground - Merrill/Fem!Hawke

I didn’t want to sleep again, and so I lay painfully awake as Solas slept beside me. It was far too cramped on the little cot for two people, but Marina has been correct that Solas had barely slept in two days. I didn’t want to think about the fact that again he’d nursed me while I was unconscious? I was beginning to wonder how much I owed the man, sweet beautiful man sleeping beside me. I was curled on one side, trying to take up as little space as possible. 

Something disturbed his sleep, and slim hands reached out for me, ‘ _ tel’thenera _ ?’ He asked, half opening a single eye, to find me in the pre-dawn gloom. 

‘Hmmm?’ I replied, glancing down to find a hand clutching tightly at my undershirt. His half-awake grasping reminded me of the time I had needed to find that spot on his waist, to tell myself I wasn’t dreaming. To make sure my mind knew that no future disasters were being witnessed. 

Solas sighed, half asleep and glancing down at me with barely opening eyelids, ‘did you sleep? I couldn’t find you.’ He asked in Trade. 

‘I didn’t sleep.’ I answered softly. ‘You were looking for me?’

‘Ahh,’ he intoned, wrapping an arm tight across my waist, and another wrapped around my back. I found my forehead slightly ablaze against the curve of his neck, but it was warming compared to the throbbing cut on the back of my head. Within moments, Solas was breathing softly, eyes flicking across closed lids and I knew he had fallen asleep again. I knew I should move, but I didn’t quite want to. Instead I wrapped my left arm around him to study the mark on my hand in the gradually lightening tent.

The brilliant green cut a emerald mark across my palm. There had been a time that everything from closing a rift to closing my fist had sent bolts of pain shooting from my arm to my shoulder. But since I had helped Dehnan, the pain had faded, perhaps I had appeased the gods that gave me the mark. 

Merrill had told me it had nothing to do with Andruil,  _ but if it didn’t belong to Andruil, who did it belong to?  _

Demon or not, I tried to log every detail that I had noticed in the dream of the forest, comparing it with everything I knew and trying to spot any inconsistencies. I began to wish for Sil’s knowledge, or for Merrill to return so that I could pick her brains. I rubbed at my eyes, and then dropped my left hand away from me out of sight.

Outside of the tent, I heard the telltale sound of hoof-beats on dry earth and Varric calling Marina which told me that Merrill was back. I twisted gently out of Solas’ grip, and united the dizziness I felt at standing. Wrapping a blanket around my shoulders against the dewy morning chill I stepped from the tent. 

 

Merrill looks splendid atop Torchbearer, her staff strapped onto her back and her own horse tied by a length of rope behind. Varric eyed me up and down, ‘you should be lying down!’ He laughed. 

Flushing a little but undeterred I stood my ground. Varric shrugged and went to help Merrill down to the ground. Merrill took the assistance gratefully, though I doubted in truth she needed it. 

Torchbearer turned his sleek head towards me and I gasped, one hand reaching out and another clapped over my mouth. The arrow had not bounced off Torchbearer’s antler, as Varric had said, rather it had shattered its way through one of the tall curved tines. Leaving the poor thing looking rather asymmetrical. 

_ Poor thing, poor dear thing,  _ I rushed over and stroked the hart’s face, making soothing sounds. ‘You saved me,’ I told Torchbearer soothingly, ‘ _ ir abelas,’  _ I whispered, so sorry to see that the creature had suffered for me. He huffed out a little breath that I took as acceptance. I would have to try find him some of those Antivan cubed sugar lumps that Josephine always took with her tea and the horses at Skyhold went mad for. 

I turned back to Merrill, who after an uncertain heartbeat handed me Torchbearer’s reins. She stood back one hand clasped over her other elbow watching a little awkwardly. I felt a sting of pity for the woman who should be Keeper, having to watch me take a Keeper’s hart that should not by rights belong to me. 

‘I owe you a huge debt,’ I said quickly, trying to cover the uncomfortable moment. I turned back and fished through my pack which was still,  _ thank all the gods,  _ still tied onto the back of Torchbearer. 

‘No, really… it’s fine.’ She broke off and I shoved a little bag into her hands. 

‘Is this enough?’ I queried, watching her with a worried expression. In my haste, I’d forgotten how much I could be completely overstepping the mark. 

She looked at the little drawstring everweave bag in her open palms, suspiciously, as one might eye up a bottle of unmarked spirits or a not very venomous viper. 

Then she glanced up as Marina bounced towards her, wrapping a hand around her waist and standing just behind the smaller woman, peering over her shoulder. ‘What have you got there?’ When Merrill didn’t reply, Marina nudged her lover’s ear with her nose and huffed impatiently. 

‘Hellana gave it to me,’ Merrill whispered in a low tone, and with a final concerned glance at me, pulled the bag open. She gasped as she pulled the woven cord out and looked at me in abject horror. ‘Wh-’

I raised my hands, ‘if you don’t want it, burn it. I just thought, since you left your clan, you might want one, but have no one to make it for you.’ 

Silence, Merrill simply stared at the cord, frozen.

‘Daisy?’ Varric asked after the silence had stretched on too long. 

Merrill ripped the cord completely out of the bag with a sudden fericity, grabbed Marina’s wrist and pulled it forward, dropping the bag to the ground in the process. She trust the cord at me, ‘do it now.’ 

‘But I am not-.’ I protested quickly. 

‘Then why did you make it?’ Merrill asked, her disappointment dripping of her. She cursed lightly under her breath and began to turn.

‘Fine, of course I’ll do it.’ I said with a quick glance around me. 

‘What-?’ Marina questioned as Merrill took her wrist and pulled it forward, so that each of them presented a wrist to me.

Merrill looked at Marina, big eyes watching the taller woman carefully, ‘I did it your way, with the smoke and chanting. This is my way.’ 

Marina narrowed her eyes at the woven cord that Merrill handed to me, blinked and then a large grin spread across her face. ‘You said it wasn’t possible.’ 

‘It is now.’ 

I wrapped one end of the cord around Merrill’s wrist three times, knotted it twice and then twisted three more strands around, unless just less than half of the rope had formed a bracelet. ‘I don’t know the right words,’ I confessed. 

Merrill’s free hand brushed shrugging unconcerned through the air, not looking up from the work my fingers were doing. 

I took the other end and repeated the knot work for Marina. Then stepped back, they were bound with a handspan stretch of cord left between them. 

Marina glanced down at a little uncertain, which turned to a frown as I picked up a little burning stick from the fire, ‘you’ll need to do the magic-y bit.’ I whispered quietly to Merrill.

I torched the flame to the centre of the cord, ‘Sylaise heat burns between you.’ 

The fire licked at the woven thread, separating the cord into two woven bracelets, and just as the burning lengths were about to touch skin, they were extinguished by Merrill’s magic and the threads twisted in on themselves protecting themselves from fraying. 

‘That’s it,’ I said quietly. 

‘That’s it?’ Marina echoed, looking a little baffled, ‘no chanting, no extended family, no cake?’ 

Merrill glanced up, a little coy, ‘there is one thing more.’ She moved her eyes to the tents and blinked knowingly, knitting their bound hands together to drag her off to bed. 

Marina laughed, and turned back, beaming, ‘don’t leave without us!’ She called.

I watched the two of them go with an odd sense of satisfaction, feeling both honoured and humbled all at the same time. I glanced at Torchbearer, maybe I was becoming more of a Keeper than I gave myself credit for. I’d never expected Merrill to ask me to perform the binding, but she’d insisted upon it.  

‘So, Poppy, you want to explain to me what that was all about?’ Varric asked drawing me from my thoughts. 

I glanced at him, ‘I made them a binding cord, because they didn’t have one. You can’t make them for yourself, its unlucky.  And Merrill didn’t have a clan, so I didn’t think anyone would be making one for her anytime soon. So, I made one, and bound them.’ 

‘But what was-’

I frowned, and tapped my fingers lightly against my thighs, ‘umm, what do the Andrastrian’s call it…’ I pushed my eyes together tightly. ‘Married them.’

Varric whistled a low note, ‘if I’d known, I would have changed into my best shirt.’ 

I laughed, and gave him a quick glance up and down, dramatically noting the permanently unbuttoned red and gold faded shirt, ‘that is your best shirt.’ 

He put his hand across his chest looking hurt, when laughed, 'you're probably right.' He admitted. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tel’thenera - My best guess at 'are you not sleeping?/lit- not dreaming?'


	98. The Dark Eight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The gang get back to Skyhold. On the way back to Skyhold, Blackwall asks Merrill about the Forgotten Ones that she keeps invoking. And Lavellan realises that Solas is a better player of the game than she first realised.  
> Once back at Skyhold she finds Sil in the library to see what he's uncovered.

I could see Skyhold far off in the distance, the snow capped castle hoovering just out of reach, it was at least half a days ride away. But we were almost home, and I knew I would be happy if I never set foot in Crestwood again. Seeing Skyhold had reminded me of how I desperately wanted to get back to my clan, to see what Sil had managed to dig up for me and spend some time with Deshanna. I'd even welcome seeing Moherinal.

Blackwall cut through the companionable silence of the long ride, ‘So, Merrill, who are the forgotten ones you keep invoking?’

Merrill twisted in her saddle to look back at the bearded human who’d barely given her a second glance the entire way to Crestwood and back. ‘I don’t know all their names, if that’s what you’re asking.’ Her words a little stiff. 

‘Because their name's forgotten?’ Blackwall queried cheerfully.

Merrill shook her head and pointed with a discoloured fingertip towards the ground, accompanied with a shrug that she must have learned from Marina. ‘They lost their names most likely.’

Blackwall laughed, leaning forward a little in his saddle. ‘Mighty careless.’ He was looking significantly better than he had the entire time we were Crestwood. The dark circles had all but disappeared from under his eyes, and whatever weight he carried had been placed down for a short time or at least gotten the first good nights sleep in a month. 

‘They’re names were taken from them, for some reason,’ she said quietly, ‘we’ve kept the tradition.’

I looked up, ‘wait, what?’ Did she mean _we_ as in the Dalish because I didn’t have a clue who the forgotten ones were. Or at least - and the irony was not lost on me - I'd forgotten who they were.

Merrill looked at me, her eyebrows scrunching together, ‘to be unnamed, comes from them.’

I wrapped Torchbearer’s reins tighter in my hand, and shuddered. Such a fate was the worse Dalish punishment, beyond banishment, to be unnamed was to no longer be one of the people. It was to walk alone without the protect of the gods, our ancestors or a clan.

‘Are you talking about the old Tevine lot?’ Blackwall frowned, an uncharacteristic puzzlement graced his grizzled features.

Merrill gave him a dark look with big green eyes, and indicated at the ground again. This time more insistently.

‘Didn’t think the dwarves had gods?’ Blackwall questioned, following her gesture and then giving Varric an unsubtle look.

Varric grunted, ‘sounding mighty accusatory there, Hero.’

The Grey Warden scowled in response and shot a rude _shem_ hand gesture at Varric when he turned his back.

Though with a shuddering certainty, I knew exactly what she was talking about and glanced around me. ‘The dark eight,’ I said, carefully, flicking a warding gesture about me as I did so. ‘Equal and terrible versions of our gods.’ I gave a glance at the sky, not wanting to say more to not risk giving offence.

No one said anything for a few minutes, until it was broken when Solas asked Merrill, ‘why only eight?’ 

Merrill glanced for a moment at his bare face, and I understood her unspoken words even if no one else in the party did, _you’d understand if you were Dalish_. ‘He has no equal.’ She said softly.

‘Ahh,’ Solas said looking away, considering, ‘you said that you didn't know _all_ of the names?’

A little smile graced Merrill’s expression, which spread into a wide grin, giddiness flaring under the surface, ‘I found one,’ she said excitedly, ‘ _Anaris_ , though it probably isn’t quite right. It’s an old Tevine translation of Fen’Harel and the tree, so the ending was probably different.’

His eyes darkened for a moment, ‘you speak Tevine?’ Solas asked, his expression read as mildly impressed curiosity, except I knew him well enough to note the tight line in his neck. I had realised in the last week that he was unsettled by having to compete as the inquisition’s lead expert of all things old and mysterious. But thanks to Vivienne, I had enough experience of the game to understand what I’ve just witnessed, Merrill had revealed the extent of her hand, and Solas had let her underestimate him. _When were you at Court?_ He’s such a good player, no one realises he’s playing.

‘Some, but I had some help,’ she admits.

Marina laughed, pulling her horse round to ride closer to her partner, ‘Fenris actually helped?’

‘I didn’t tell him what it was for?’ Merrill blushed a little, pale rose staining her face.

I didn’t know what a Fenris was, but Varric must have, as he laughed so hard that I was afraid he was going to fall off his horse.

* * *

 

‘Well this looks cozy.’ I said, emerging from the stairs from the rotunda to see my cousin sitting cross legged on a table a thumb in a book, a scowl on his face. Dorian appeared to be studiously reading something, before placing a green ribbon in the page and snapping it shut and looking up at me expectantly.

‘Good, you’re back.’ Sil said, sliding from the table and showing me two shelves filled with all manor of books marked with a variety of coloured ribbons marking pages.

‘Greens for what we know, yellow is possible new information, red is for unreliable source and blue is for Dirthamen to untangle.’ Sil beamed showing me what he’d been getting up to for the last few weeks.

I ran a fingertip along the spines, there were a small cluster of blue ribbons, each title revealing them to be official chantry histories. I couldn’t help but smile. I turned my attention instead to the yellow ribbons. ‘Anything useful.’

Sil nodded and took my hand, ‘you’re not going to like it. This has nothing to do with Andruil.’

I grimaced, ‘yep, I know.’

Dorian glanced up, ‘you took that better than expected.’

My withering look was matched with Dorian’s bright toothed smirk.

‘-but Den’s mark was probably made by Andruil’s orb. Look at- where did I leave it- ahhhhhhhh.’ Sil fished around the little pile of books and pulled out a leather bound notebook. I glanced at the title, but didn’t recognise the script. I flicked through the pages, it appeared to be a study of elven murals. Some of them I recognised from the Exhaled Plains, whereas others were completely unfamiliar to me. I found the yellow ribbon and turned the page.

 _‘Fenedhis_.’ I swore looking down at the copied painting. In the centre was a purple sphere, on the left a pale figure with black hair and scarlet lips on the right a dark figure with twisting white halla horns whose hand hovered above the orb.

Sil looked concerned for a moment, but explained the mural slowly, ‘the orb of Andruil and Ghilan’nain, used to elevate Ghilan’nain to the pantheon.’

‘I’ve seen it.’ I whispered.

Sil snatched the book back out of my hands to glare daggers at the unresponsive page, and then across at me, ‘you’ve seen it.’

I tilted my head, and frowned, ‘at least I dreamt of it.’

Sil rubbed at his eyes, pulling the mask of Sylaise under his eyes down with his fingers, ‘Els, have you been drinking too much?’

I smacked his arm, ‘hush you. I’m serious.’ I took the notebook back off him. ‘I was dreaming in the fade.’

‘And what did Solas have to say about a non-mage dreaming in the fade?’ Dorian asked without looking up, his fingers absentmindedly flicking through a dusty tome.

‘Oh, I didn’t tell him.’

Dorian looked up then, a single slim eyebrow raised in questioning. ‘I see.’ He said, in a tone that told me he didn’t understand in the slightest. I squirmed a little under his scrutiny, but pushed it away, ‘any chance you’ve stumbled across a copy of Fen’Harel and the tree?’

Sil pointed reached over to the bookcase and plucked six separate books off the shelf, ‘take your pick.’

Three greens, two reds and one blue. I sighed and pulled up a chair from a neighbouring table, flicked Sil on the knee till he moved to give me enough space and got to reading.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahhh, Merrill is so difficult to write and I’m sure I’m not there yet. And I love her so much I want to do right by her! The balance between innocent and expert is a fine one, plus adding in how much she’s been influenced by Marina in the time since da2 >.<


	99. An Offering to Dirthamen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lavellan spends some time with her mother. Deshanna is tested between being a good Keeper and protecting her clan and protecting her daughter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahhhh one hundred chapters!! This has been an absolute blast to write and here’s to the next hundred! Thank you so much to everyone who is still reading, I’m sending my love to all of you <3

Blurry eyed and my head full of old stories I retreated to my rooms after sundown. I had six separate accounts of the same tale and I was sure between them only a sentence might have been truly correct. I rubbed at my eyes and considered heading to bed early or heading down to the Herald’s Rest. But it was at that moment Keeper Deshanna appeared carrying an ornate Orlesian teapot, pushing the door open with her back and climbing the stairs two at a time.

She pulled me into a one armed hug and I raised an eyebrow her baggage. ‘Look at this, da’len,’ she said, placing the pot down on a side table. ‘Do you have some water up here?’

I gave her a confused look, but dutifully fetched a jug of water, and two mugs. I didn’t have anything up here suitable for boiling water for tea.

My mother smiled, ‘Vivienne gave it to me, said the Empress of Orlais has one just like it, but I suspect she was simply flattering me.’

To my amazement, the water settled itself into a low boil and I glanced across, ‘enchanted?’

Deshanna nodded and reached into her teal Keeper’s robes to fish out a small clay jar. From it she poured a selection of ground herbs into each mug and covered them over with water from the enchanted teapot. ‘Vivienne is not a bit like I remember her, though apparently she thinks I’m unchanged but for the hair.’ She laughed a little to herself and subconsciously touched the braided white hair, that had been black only year and half before. Now her hair had faded with age she looked far more like Sil’s mother than mine.

‘You know Vivienne?’ I asked, looking up. When on earth had they met.

Deshanna smiled softly, ‘in truth I knew her father well, a Rivaini merchant who used to come to Wycome twice a year. He worked with,’ she clicked her fingers as she searched for the words, ‘sea-aravel?’

‘Ships?’ I supplied and Deshanna nodded.

‘Though he helped us patch up and aravel more than once.’ Deshanna stood forward and poured the water into the two mugs that I’d laid out. ‘Her Mother was a wise woman, a mage I guess you could say, we traded recipes. I couldn’t believe it when I heard they were killed.’

‘What?’ I gasped, ‘they were killed?’

Deshanna looked down, ‘Vivienne reached too high in Orlais, so they cut her ties to her family. Tried to isolate her, apparently it’s a common tactic.’

I said nothing for a long time.

Deshanna took back over with a little smile to lighten the tone, ‘last time I saw Vivienne she was,’ she gestured low to the ground, ‘that high, before she came into her magic.’

I smiled, trying to imagine what Vivienne had been like a child, despite my best efforts I could only imagine the adult woman in miniature completely with horned headdress.

Scents of ginger root, lemon peel and dried honey drifted up from the mugs and I couldn’t help but smile. I took both mugs and carried them to the little sofa and handed on back to Deshanna as she sat. Warming my hands on the cup I realised it had been months since I’d last had good Dalish infusions. I sighed happily and tilted my head back, it was good to be back in Skyhold. Then I realised what my mother had done and looked down at the mug, ‘a concoction for a clear throat and free speech? Dirthamen preserve me, what do you want to talk about?’

Deshanna shifted uneasily and twisted her now white hair out of her face with a wrinkled hand. ‘Just that I know and you don’t need to pretend with me.’

I glanced across curiously, ‘what do you know? I don’t think I’m keeping anything from you.’

She barked a laugh, ‘my ring’s enchanted you know. You couldn’t have kept it from me if you tried.’ She held up her left hand, her finger wrapped in worn sylvan wood.

I squinted at the ring, and felt my stomach turn over, ‘Mamae?’

Deshanna took a deep slip of the steaming liquid and dapped at her mouth with the back of her sleeve, ‘my own daughter-’ she shook her head, ‘Dirthanna’d never allowed this.’ She sighed, ‘Da’len, are you at least happy?’

I blinked at her, ‘you mean because I’m Inquisitor?’ I didn’t doubt Auntae Dirthanna would have dragged me home, the moment she’d found out about my marked hand, called me cursed in private and told the clan to tolerate my mistakes as she had when I’d ‘lost’ my magic. I tried a half hearted smile, ‘you’re not at least going to warn me to stay out of trouble?’

Deshanna set her tea on the ground, and  twisted her ring around her finger, which she only did when she was nervous. Then solid brown eyes stared hard at my face, looking for something. ‘It’s far too late for that, don’t you think?’

My jaw clenched together and I licked at my lips nervously, I drank deeply although the too hot tea burned my throat. ‘Too late?’ Despite my burning throat. A shard of ice had struck my head? ‘How is it too late?’ I wrapped my arms around my chest. My mind reeled working back on every mistake I’d made, ‘I bound Merrill and Marina a day ago, if that’s what you mean. Merrill insisted, since she was a first-‘

‘You were a second, and how can I protect you if you will not tell me the truth?’ Deshanna said uncharacteristically cooly. ‘I thought I raised you better than to lie to me.’

I floundered, ‘I’m not.’ I insisted hotly after a moment. I twisted in my seat, and set my own cup down to match, ‘tell me what this is about.’

‘You,’ she froze, ‘you’re,’ a terrified look spread across her face, and her hand reached up to take my face. For a hundred heartbeats she’s scrutinised me, then she sagged, resting her forehead against my bare shoulder. It must have been agony, but she held herself there for a long time. ‘Dirthamen untangle this mess,’ she cursed against me, ‘you don’t know.’

‘Please tell me what you know.’

Deshanna pulled back and rubbed at her eyes, as she tried to put the pieces into place, the same gesture Sil and I had inherited. ‘I need to pray.’

‘Balcony,’ I whispered, pointed towards one of the perpetually unclosed doors.

Deshanna nodded and exited onto the balcony, only returning a moment later to take the jug of water from me with a solemn nod.

I waited, sat dumb on the little sofa, hearing only her whispered words of my mother’s desperate prayers. What could it be, in searching for the source of my mark what had I missed? What sin against gods and clan had I inadvertently committed?

It felt like a lifetime later when she returned, pausing at the doorway, ‘nine?’ She queried.

I nodded, trying to stop the panic rising in my throat. I could feel a drumming in my ears, as my heart pounded too fast and too unsteady.

‘Probably for the best,’ she acknowledged. Then came and sat down next to me again, she picked up her stone cold tea and drained it quickly. Setting the mug back down. ‘Please understand what I have to say is as your Keeper, that I want to protect you.’ She turned, taking my hands in hers and then she looked down startled at my marked hand. ‘Of course.’ She muttered disdainfully under her breath, and then glanced up quickly with a pained expression.

‘Mamae,’ I begged, hearing the crack in my voice. I’d thought I’d been very patient, but now I needed to hear whatever truth she’d found. I needed it like someone drowning needs air.

Deshanna shook her head, ‘I can only pray that I’m not putting you in more danger this way.’

‘Tell me.’

She sighed again, ‘I cannot, it isn’t my secret to reveal. Little hare, doing so might put you in more danger.’

‘I’m in danger?’ I knew I was in danger, I’d known since the moment I’d woken up in the burnt out wreckage of Haven with Cassandra’s sword pointed at my throat. I’d known I was in danger when I faced off against Corypheus, when I’d stumbled into a shem palace, when I’d- hearing those words aloud from my own mother was oddly calming. ‘I’m in danger.’ I repeated with a soft snort, ‘I am dangerous, believe me I can handle it.’

She stroked a hand across my hair, ‘I believe you, of course you can handle it. Will you trust me, in my decision to tell you at the right time?’

It was my turn to search her face, I know without looking she would be resolute, she was perfectly named for Dirthamen and keep the secret she held under lock.

‘I trust you, Keeper.’ I said softly, resigning myself to acceptance.

 

Deshanna left shortly afterwards as our conversation seemed stilted and forced, so we agreed to give it a few days and try again. I found myself on the balcony within a few heartbeats of being left alone. My mother’d rearranged my shrine for her purposes placing the gaudy statue of Dirthamen in the centre. The statue gave the god a bear’s face and four arms, two which were clasped across his mouth and two outstretched each holding a crudely carved black bird.

In front of the statue was a little cup of water and a loop of thread tied into a ‘Dirthamen’s knot’. I smiled to see it. Then I noticed the statue of Fen’Harel, on the far right had been turned to face backwards, in accordance with Keeper’s tradition. I squinted at the wolf-headed statue and turned it the right way around.


	100. Coming up Silver

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lavellan is getting ready to leave for the Western Approach, but she’s forgotten something. Someone that’s hardly going to be left behind.

I unbound Torchbearer from his stall in Skyhold’s stables. A bubble of uncertainty remained deep in my soul, I’d been more unsettled that I’d expected from Deshanna’s words and warning, her sudden secret kept from revelation. _Little hare, are you at least happy?_ Happiness requires a certain clarity of purpose, a carelessness of thought that I hadn’t been allowed in such a long time. Happy, perhaps not, but I wasn’t bored either.

Torchbearer nudged my face with his head and I lightly scratched his nose, ‘come along then.’ I said, and ushered him forward, only to press two fingers against the sigil of Ghilan’nain I’d carved into the post marking the doorway out of the stable.

_Show me the way, Mistress of Travel, Bring me back, Mistress of Travel._

I was halfway across the drawbridge out of Skyhold when a sharp, clear whistle pierced the air behind me, followed by the call of a Marcher dove. My hands were half way up to my face to respond with a bird call of my own before I realised there was no need. I twisted around to see my cousin running after me. He was carrying a _shem-_ sized pack that was far too big for him and dragging a bedraggled grey mare behind him, ‘hold up!’

He reached me and bent over, his hands on his knees and panted for a moment. He’d braided all of his hair into a single sleek horsetail that ran half way down his back.

‘Sil what the-‘

Sil raised a finger, and I placed a hand on my hip impatiently.

‘You forgot something!’ He announces as he stood straight, still flushed but breath caught.

I tapped my hand twice against my hip, ‘go on.’ My eyes narrowed.

He spread his arms dramatically, waving his hands with a flourish. and pointed his thumbs at his chest.

‘No, it’s too dangerous.’ I snapped.

He made a noise I was sure he’d learned off Sera and I frowned. ‘Els, we’ve been hunting together for the last fifteen years, it feels wrong to not have your back. Don’t make me stay researching again.’

I nodded, no point arguing with that. _And I couldn’t deny that_ _it did feel wrong to go hunting without him. We worked well together, and filled in the gaps in each other’s knowledge._ ‘Does Deshanna know?’ I asked, trying to sound adult-ish.

He flicked his eyes back, and tugged at his single braid of hair. _He played with his hair when he lied_. ‘Yes.’

I cleared my throat loudly and gave him a _try me_ look.

He cringed a little, ‘Moherinal sent me.’

‘That’s suspicious.’ I retorted with a laugh and shrugged a hand to accept his company. We began walking together. _We’d have to get him a different horse, he’d never keep up on that poor dusty thing._

Sil gave me a clouded glance, ‘Deshanna’s been weird.’ He admitted after a few paces.

‘Weird?’ I repeated, shifting Torchbearer’s reins in my hand.

‘Weirder than usual.’ He supplied, a little unhelpfully.

In truth I’d noticed, barely noticed, but I had. The clan was tighter at Skyhold, tight-lipped, tight-eyed and tight-pursed. Newly suspicious, with old fears surfacing, in a strange land and a strange situation. And I’d thought Deshanna was doing her best, but the pressure had led her to some odd decisions.

The clan had taken residence in the broken tower to the east of the main gate. And there were plans to take over a small wooded area halfway up the mountain, clear a glade in the centre and try to rebuild something of clan life. Something good to look forward to at the very least.

I flicked Sil on the ear, ‘hurry up, I was meant to meet Harding twenty minutes ago.’

He screwed up his face and paused for a second, before clicking his heels, mischievous grin across his face. ‘You’re not second anymore, you can’t command me.’

I huffed, doing my best not to let him wind me up, ‘Older than you.’ I playfully shoved his arm, our favourite argument.

He stuck out his tongue, ‘taller.’

‘As if, dread wolf-‘

Sil struck a finger across my mouth, and I pulled back, bearing my teeth, half tempted to bite him anyway. ‘Ahh, ahh, ahh,’ he chastised, ‘didn’t you hear. Deshanna banned us cursing.’

‘What?’ I spluttered, shoving him off me completely.

Sil rocked back on his heels, words bitter, but light enough, ‘I know, have you ever heard of a clan that doesn’t curse.’ He smirked, ‘it’s the closest we have to a pastime.’

‘Why?’ I managed after a blank moment.

Sil look down, ‘she’s been odd since we came to Skyhold, like Ma- Dirthanna. Remember how she used to get cracked in old places.’ We always tried not to camp too close to ruins, it made Dirthanna, and Deshanna to a lesser extent, nervous. There was simply too much history. Grabbing and grasping hands through the veil, demons offering scraps of our lost history haunted their dreams on those nights. I glanced up at Skyhold, a sacred space, every stone radiating with stories lost and lore forgotten. I shuddered to think of how much Deshanna bore for her clan, how thankless her task was. ‘She said something odd to me two nights ago.’ I confided.

He raised an eyebrow. ‘Odd how?’

‘She told me I was lying to her. And her ring knew. Had to go pray for a while, nothing came of it.’

‘Hmm,’ he added eloquently. ‘That is odd.’

I felt my hand fly to my neck, ‘you don’t think Deshanna’s got-‘ _the dread._

‘Don’t,’ he hissed, his hands grabbing at mine, begging with expression of utter urgency, ‘don’t say it, don’t you dare even think it.’

 

Halfway down the mountainside, we met with Scout Harding who was hammering out plans with Aurora the requisition officer. Aurora didn’t quite meet my eyes when I greeted both of them.

Scout Harding smiled warmly and nodded to Sil, before leading us over to a well worn tree stump she had been using to keep her map. She indicated the Western Approach, ‘here’s where we need to be,’ and the Frostback Mountains, ‘and here’s where we are. Either way, it’s going to take most of a month to get there.’

‘Can the Warden’s wait that long?’ I asked quietly.

Aurora tightened her fist, ‘they don’t have a choice,’ she said tightly.

Harding glanced up at her, and then tapped back on the map. ‘There is also reports of Venatori activity across the Imperial Highway, so my best suggestion is the direct way though the Emerald Graves-‘

‘You were going to the Graves without me.’ Sil exclaimed, slapping me hard on the shoulder.

I winced and gave him a guilty glance, ‘wouldn’t go without you.’ I reassured, happy that Sil would be with me. 


	101. Promises

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stuck on a mountain side somewhere near the Western Approach, stuck in a campsite, the group discuss trees and books while trying to keep warm.

I crouched by the fire, trying my hardest not to shiver, the Western Approach was bitterly cold and eternally full of sand. The wind whistled across the empty expanses of blighted land, with nothing to block or divert it’s path, chilling me to my core, ‘I thought deserts were supposed to be hot,’ I grumbled to Cassandra, who threw me a knowing look, and pulled of her boots from which she emptied a comedic amount of sand. I pressed me lips together to not burst out laughing.

‘Cold?’ Dorian asked, handing me a dark bottle with no label, and pressing a hot glyph into my shoulder with his other hand.

I wrapped my hands around the bottle and smiled up at him like a cat in the sun. We’d been stuck on the sheltered side of an unnamed mountain for the better part of four days, trapped by a raging sandstorm that had only settled a few hours back. Marina, Stroud, Blackwall and Merrill had left a week before us to do some light reconnaissance and had sent a letter back to meet them at an old Tevine tower on the Abyssal Ridge.

Sil was behind me wrapped up in a heavy woollen cloak, looking as grumpy as I felt. We Lavellan’s were not made for this kind of weather. He flicked through the notebook of elvhen wall murals that he’d brought with him and barely put down since. ‘Do you have to steal Skyhold’s books?’ I asked playfully.

Sil glanced up but didn’t laugh as I expected him to, instead he sort of shrugged half-heartedly, ‘found it in the other library.’ He muttered quietly, before hiding his _vallaslin-_ masked face. He appeared to be studying the next page intently, but I didn’t know if he was just engrossed or trying to ignore me.

‘What other library?’ I queried, slowly. I assumed it was the little one above the rotunda, or maybe there was a bigger one that I had never had the fortune of finding.

Cassandra took that exact moment as the one she needed to clear her throat, which Dorian took as invitation.

‘Worry not, Cass, no one found your collection of smut.’ Dorian piped up with a wicked smirk from the other side of the campfire that still smelt of the sweet herbs I'd scattered less that twenty minutes before to honour Sylaise.

Cassandra made a rather Cassandra like snort of disgust, ‘I do not have a collection of smut, it’s _just_ fiction.’ But her point was rather undermined by the fact that she had turned the colour of Orlesian rubies, and then she cleared her throat again and flashed Dorian a dark eyed warning look.

Dorian lounged back, studying the woman, ‘if you didn’t want me to mention them, why did you lend me them? I felt dumber for trying to read them.’

The warrior opened her mouth, but when words didn’t form, Dorian looked positively gleeful and he looked over to me, ‘you know the wine cellar?‘

I nodded, _silly man, of course I knew where the wine was kept_.

‘There are dusty bookshelves down there, old stuff down there, that was warded.’ He made a show of studying his nails, with a sly smile, ‘only took most of a morning to break in.’

I nodded, realised he was of course fishing for a compliment, ‘well done, very efficient.’ I managed.

Dorian snorted, ‘I also would have taken _greatly talented_ or _expertly done_.’

‘Varric wrote them.’ Cassandra burst in, and we both looked at her. She blushed darker, ‘the romantic-‘ she sighed resigned, ‘smut.’

A heartbeat later, I was bent over laughing so hard. Dorian was the same, ‘does that make it better or worse?’ I asked.

I looked over at Sil, he was silent. I rolled my eyes at him, I’d never known Sil to get lost in a book. I bit my tongue to prevent me making a comment about the picture book. Whatever was in it was clearly interesting him, but he did always have a fascination for all things elvhen, although it had left his utterly disillusioned by the entire period.

I nodded my head towards Sil, passing Dorian a look. Dorian shrugged, _he’s your cousin._

I frowned, _what in all of Thedas was wrong with him?_

‘He wanted to see it,’ a light voice whined from my left making me jump so hard I was sure my heart had left my chest entirely.

‘ _Dirthamen’s ravens_ ,’ I gasped, looking at the young blond boy. _How long had he been with us?_ ‘When did you get here.’

Cole looked up, or at least his wide brimmed hat moved upwards, ‘ohh, you hear me?’ He asked completely unconcerned.

Sil glanced up, suddenly distracted from the book, his eyes flickered up as though he was searching for something, ‘what is it Els?’

I glanced at my cousin, ‘Cole’s here.’ Sil frowned and shifted a little and went back to studying the notebook. ‘I can hear you.’ I added to Cole.

‘Apparently Cole is tagging along,’ I heard Dorian say to Cassandra from my right side.

‘Didn’t you know?’ She replied, managing to both speak and tut at Dorian at the same time.

Dorian replied with some rapid fire Tevine, that from context I was utterly convinced was profanity.

I watched as Cole crouched low besides Sil, tipping his hat back until his face was close enough he could like my cousin if he so pleased. But he didn’t seem in the licking mood, instead Cole looked worriedly at Sil, ‘can you help him find it?’ Cole begged me, scared wide eyes finding me.

‘Find what?’ I asked, my heart twisting.

‘ _Roots digging deep in the dark soil, an old oak, the name handed down._ ’

We’d sped through the Emerald Graves so fast, I only had the memory of verdant rolling hillsides, fertile ground fertilised by Dalish bodies and hopes. ‘We both want to find Lavellan’s tree, and we will.’ I said softly, which caused Sil to look up sharply, we’d always promised to visit the Emerald Graves together when we’d been children, to find the tree planted for the Emerald Knight that gave their name to our clan. To pay our respects to our clan’s nominal namesake to mark our claim as real Lavellans.

Sil snapped the notebook shut with a snap and tucked it away. He gave me a little smile, tapping the ground lightly next to him. ‘I thought you’d forgotten.’

I settled besides him, and when I looked up Cole was gone again. I peered around the campsite for a moment before allowing Cole his disappearances. ‘I haven’t forgotten either of my promises.’ I whispered.

‘Sometimes you speak, and I understand the words, but you make no sense.’ Dorian supplied, loudly. So no one forgot he was present.

The words had formed on my tongue, but to my great surprise it was Cassandra who answered him, ‘clan Lavellan, was named after an Emerald Knight. The Knights’ planted trees to mark an oath they swore to protect the Dales, I believe is what they’re talking about.’

‘That’s right,’ I said carefully.

‘My library isn’t all smut.’ Cassandra retorted and crossed her arms over her violet breastplate.

Dorian snorted loudly and she punched him in the arm.

‘I read up on the Dales after-‘ she paused, considering her words, ‘I am sorry for what I said.’

I nodded, ‘me too.’

‘Oh goodie, you’re bounding, but ow!’ Dorian said dryly, giving the ex-Seeker a narrow eyed glare.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And talking of promises, well - SoftGungeFairy, I promised you sometime around chapter thirty that eventually Cassandra and Lavellan would see eye to eye - and... well all I can say is I'm sorry that it took so long! <3


	102. The Disadvantages of Blood Magic

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sil wants to know more about ancient Tevinter, but when the gang come to the Ritual Tower and interrupt a blood magic ritual, he might realise he doesn’t actually want to know. Lavellan meets Erimond for the first time, and finds him about as charming as can be expected.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW - death and dead bodies

‘So do you think we kept our _vallaslin_ during Tevinter or rediscovered the art after?’ Sil bellowed across Cassandra, who had the misfortune of riding between us this morning. The desert winds breathed gentle kisses across the blight torn land this morning, and although the sun was trying very hard to warm us it was still bitterly close.

However, none of this has curbed Sil’s excitement and he had taken it upon himself to try to unlock some of the mysteries of our _vallaslin,_ but asking inane questions all morning. He’d already frayed what was left of Dorian’s patience by pestering him about pre-Dalish elves in Tevinter, and now was turning his attention to me.

I sighed, my head starting to pound. ‘I don’t know, Sil.’

‘Because without Keepers, who’d do it? Or did some guy just turn up for work and get a _what’s that on your face,_ can you imagine!’ Sil laughed to himself, he spiked his voice high, ‘ _umm no, I’ve always had blue face lines, can’t you remember anything?_ ’ Then his voice dropped low, ‘ _pretty sure you didn’t have yesterday.’_ Then high again, ‘ _honestly short term_ shem _memory.’_

‘I bet it went just like that,’ I said humourlessly.

Dorian flashed me a raised eyebrow, _just let him tire himself out,_ I thought in response.

Cassandra cleared her throat, ‘I believe that we’re here.’ And pointed towards a dark twisted metal tower sticking up from the dusty amber sands so way off in the distance. The ancient Tevine tower looked as though the architect has been inspired by the idea of iron fire pokers and shards of obsidian.

‘Maker’s breath,’ Sil swore, as he studied the structure. The words sounds utterly foreign coming from his mouth.

And I turned in my saddle, unable to stop the laughing disbelief spreading across my face, ‘really?’

Sil gave me a shrug, ‘Deshanna only said we couldn’t curse with our gods.’

I rolled my eyes, ‘so you went for the Maker, _Mother Mythal give me strength.’_ I swore, tapping my own _vallaslin_ and looking to the sky.

‘Looks like you’ve got a potential convert,’ Dorian muttered darkly to Cassandra, who twisted round to Sil and studied him with a critical eye.

‘There are some books I could lend you if you’re interested.’

Dorian snorted, ‘Varric’s written holy texts too, that man sure had range.’

Cassandra grunted her disgust, ‘will you please forget about it.’

Dorian considered her for a long moment, ‘hmmm.’ He said as he stroked his chin with thumb and forefinger, ‘no.’ He drew out the word with a smirk.

She closed her eyes tightly, the muscle in her jaw fluttered.

Sil had risen his hands up in protest and his eyes flicked to me for help, which I might have offered if only he hadn’t talked my ear off all morning. I stuck my tongue out at him from behind Cassandra’s back and ignores his silent looks for help, as Cass began an impromptu lecture on the importance of learning the Chant of Light, not only for the good of his soul, but also for the good of all Thedas.

She was prevented from reciting her favourite verses as Hawke came riding towards us, kicking up a trail of sand as she did so. She practically skidded to a stop in front of us panting hard. ‘Andraste’s tits, we thought you were never coming.’

She got a scowl from Cassandra for that, but I pressed on, ‘what’s happening?’

Marina looked like she swallowed a lemon, ‘blood magic, and not the happy, fluffy, cuddly kind either.’ She gestured with her hand to get us to follow her.

‘Where are the others?’ Cassandra called.

Hawke glanced back, ‘keeping an eye, to intervene if Erimond starts the ritual.’

‘Erimond?’ Dorian queried, ‘Livius Erimond?’

Marina shrugged, ‘they call him Lord Erimond.’ She answered with a curl of her lip, as she spoke his name.

Dorian shook his head, and clenched his reins tighter, ‘he has a bit of a scandal a few years back, and stopped turning up at the right kind of parties.’

Sil twisted to me, ‘pssst, what’s the wrong kind of party?’

I covered my hand with my mouth, ‘the ones where they run out of wine before the nights through.’

Dorian coughed, looking deeply uncomfortable, ‘they run out of wine and replace it with a sacrificial ritual or two.’ He didn’t need to say what kind of person was sacrificed. 

Marina grimaced,and scrunched up her nose in disgust, ‘Tevinter sounds charming as ever, so what have we done to deserve him coming down South.’

I didn’t answer her, instead I couldn’t help sneaking distrustful glances at Dorian, and I remembered what Solas had told me, _thirty six, thirty six seemingly living only because their master went to the right kind parties._ I really didn’t know a damn thing about the lives of our kin up north, and I felt utterly naive for not knowing more. I ended up staring directly ahead at our destination, the tower among the sands, with decorative spikes curling like a claw reaching up from the earth. Like the hand of an ancient Forgotten god, grasping from the abyss-

‘Els!’ Sil snapped, he had moved next to me and was waving his hand near my face. ‘Are we going to sneak up or ride in swords out?’ He reiterated slowly, as I’d missed him ask the first time.

I blinked, and glanced around my companions, ‘how many of them are there?’

Marina smirked, ‘we’d outnumber them.’

‘Let’s go.’ I said, pulling my bow from my shoulder and stringing it. 

 

Bracing myself for whatever horrors we were about to find, my head conjured slain elves draped almost restfully over each other. But to my dull surprise the bodies we discovered, at the bottom of a set of sandstone stairs, were _shem._ They had been dressed in the blue and silver of the Orlesian Grey Wardens. Stroud knelt by one, his lips downturned and closed the unblinking eyes of the butchered body in front of him. ‘Jacqueline.’ He whispered, ‘Maker guide you.’ He stood then and turned to us, a snarl on his lips and strode purposely forward up the steps.

With a finally look towards the dead, I followed Stroud up the stairs.

‘In War, Victory, in Peace, Vigilance, in Death-‘ I heard a man bellowing, as I reached the top stair I saw a green fade rift shimmering, and behind it, ‘Sacrifice.’ A Grey Warden, stabbed hard into the back of another, sending a spray of crimson blood into the air.

The stabbed man dropped to the ground, splayed out.

‘Phillipe?’ I heard Stroud exclaim, rushing forward, only to be pushed back by a wave of magic rippling out from the fade. From the messy sack of meat and blood, encased in the traditional grey steel and blue cloth emerged a wrath demon, accompanied by the familiar stink of sulphur and decay.

‘Now bind it as I taught you.’ Came the same voice, who had spoken the Grey Warden’s oath. I saw him then, and knew it must be the Tevine man invited to all the wrong parties.

The Warden who had stabbed his fellow, raised a glowing green hand, in twisted mockery of my own. With it, the wrath demon turned to him, letting out and enraged snarl before the Warden bound it, and the demon fell silent and the Warden’s eyes burned red.

‘Phillipe,’ Stroud tried again, ‘this is madness.’ But the blond Warden ignore him so entirely it was as though Stroud had not spoken.

‘Ahhh, Inquisitor.’ Erimond greeted calmly, almost cordially, as though we met at some night time dance, rather than me interrupting his blood ritual at midday. ‘What an unexpected pleasure.’

‘Likewise,’ I retorted, ‘fancy meeting you here.’

‘Lord Livius Erimond,’ his face twisted into a mocking smile as he gave me an unconvincing now, ‘at your service.’

Dorian snorted somewhere behind me.

I nodded, briskly, as though I was bored of the little man, ‘at _my_ service?’ I queried, ‘then do run along and leave the Wardens alone will you.’

Erimond frowned at me, as though he was a child and I had told him to help tidy our _araval._ I almost thought he was going to stamp his foot. ‘I don’t think I will, Wardens hands up.’ He commanded softly, and Phillipe raised his hand, along with three more wardens accompanied by demons that I had failed to spot before. _Great eyes there Hunter,_ I chastised myself.

‘And hands down.’ Erimond finished, and the Wardens obeyed.

I could feel the fury radiating off Stroud in waves so palpable it was as though I was stood knee deep in the Amaranthine Sea. ‘You are no Warden,’ he hissed, teeth clenched, words grated and course.

Erimond studied Stroud, ‘but you are, the one Clarel allowed to get away.’ He tilted his head, surveying his demonic servants, ‘don’t you understand what we’re doing? Once we raise the demon army, we will walk into the Deep Roads, destroying the Old Gods before they can wake.’ His eyes flicked to Dorian, ‘crushing the last remnant of Old Tevinter, before we make the world anew, join us, join the Venatori.’

‘Hmmm.’ Dorian considered, ‘no thanks.’.

‘I have to agree, that sounds like a bad move for us.’ I added.

Erimond turned on me, his cheeks staining beetroot, ‘the invitation was never for you thief. You will die in agony.’

‘Cheery,’ I heard Marina mutter from somewhere to me left.

‘If you won’t join me,’ Erimond said resignedly to Dorian, ‘I suppose- Wardens, attack.’ He whispered blowing a red fog from his suddenly outstretched hand as those he was blowing a kiss to his Wardens. ‘So long,’ Erimond called before the Wardens and demons turned on us and I didn’t see where he went.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Eirmond’s character notes - I changed Erimond’s speech a little bit so it would be less of an exposition dump. And I wanted him and Dorian to at least know of each other and for him to be super unimpressed with an elf!inquisitor.


	103. Ritual Tower

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lavellan and the gang fight that possessed Wardens at the ancient Tevine ritual tower, Stroud and Hawke come to a disagreement and Sil questions Lavellan on her path.

The air was filled with the terrifying war cries of Cassandra, Blackwall and Stroud. Who each rushed forwards, swords and shields flying into the fray. Stroud was the first to make a kill, beheading the Wrath demon that had been bound to Warden Phillipe. 

The Warden, red eyed and bound to Erimond’s will, watched the demon’s death with as much interest as one might watch someone swatting a fly. But as the demon’s head hit the ground and dissolved into a foul smelling pile of black tar, Phillipe’s mouth unhinged like a snake and roared a cruel unnatural sound. It echoed across the cold sandstone, and up the decorative metal shards of the ritual tower. 

An arrow flew dangerously close to my head, striking a Warden square in the eye who had managed to snuck up on my left. I twisted to see Sil looking mighty pleased with himself, but his expression dropped like a hot stone as I realised I’d let myself become flanked again. Sil drew a new arrow, but I felt a twisting claw scraping across my shoulder blade. Then the expected pain didn’t come. And I saw my skin shielded in an emerald green ward, it was a new shade of green that I was unfamiliar with, until the demon besides me exploded into rotten chunks and I knew my protector must have been Marina. 

I joined Hawke in her defensive position towards the rear of the group, and while she didn’t pause in her casting she gave me a grim nod. Her staff flew in impossibly intricate gestures and showered the field of battle with red sparks. I stepped up, adding a furious flurry of arrows into the mix. 

By some unspoken agreement, we had left Phillipe to Stroud, and the two battled seemingly matched in strength, speed and determination. They danced back and forth between the scattered battle glyphs cast onto the ground which would consume the unwary in fire or ice. Although the same agreement had not he reached by the other side, and one of the Wardens who Cassandra has been clashing with turned from her to attack Stroud’s back. 

‘Stroud!’ Cassandra called out, but found her path blocked by another wrath demon, which Cassandra was able to side step a moment later as it became locked in a cage made of mage lightning cutesy of Dorian. Cassandra cut clean through the Warden that had escaped her and turned to make light work of the demon that had tried to stop her path. Almost as soon as the skirmish had begun it was almost over. Every foe had fallen, except the continual battle between Stroud and Phillipe. 

Next to me with a grunt of frustration, Marina swung her staff high above her head, and with a deafening crack of her staff against the soft stone our last enemy fell to the floor. His chest exploded in twisted red agony. 

‘Jean-Marc?’ The man rasped, his voice barely a voice, as the red demonic mist that had covered his eyes vacating to leave only a dull recognition. ‘We wanted,’ he splattered specks of red across the cream stone with each futile word, and then a calm fell across his features, ‘forgive us.’ 

Stroud dropped to his knees by Phillipe, taking his hand and whispering quiet reassurances until the light went completely from the dying Warden’s eyes. 

Then Stroud stood with a new fury, and shoved Marina hard against one of the twisted metal spikes, ‘why did you do that?’ He hissed. Cassandra moved quicker than the rest of us to break them up, but she wasn’t needed as Marina shoved him off easily. 

‘They refused to listen.’ She retorted, rubbing the back of her wrist, which had been cut to tap into her own blood magic. 

Stroud twisted back, sheathing his sword in quiet anger. ‘I trained Phillipe myself, he shouldn’t have died like that.’ 

‘Like you trained Bethany.’ Marina snapped, and then looked at the bodies of the Wardens, and laughed bitterly, she looked crushed, ‘they willing traded their lives to a demon, and for what?’ 

Stroud turned back to her, his face bowed and tone approaching amicable, ‘the Wardens were wrong, Hawke,’ he said softly, ‘but they had their reasons.’ 

‘There are no reasons that warrant this.’ Marina replied, eyes dark, surveying the devastation. Her hands twisted around her staff. ‘Anyone can tell themselves a pretty story to justify the worst actions.’ 

‘Like your wife did?’ Stroud added darkly. 

Marina looked at him for a long time, her gaze crystallising into tangible daggers. I thought she was going to attack him, and I glanced to Dorian and Cassandra, who were both on edge to break them up. Instead, Marina smirked, but didn’t look him in the eye, ‘it isn’t just her story that is pretty. Help me burn the bodies, before the corvids come.’ 

 

The sun was low on the horizon once the bodies had been burnt and Andrastian hymns for the dead sung by those that believed. I was sat with my back to the steps, Sil next to me. Behind us the Wardens’ pyre had burned low. 

‘I wondered when the demon army was going to show up.’ I said as steadily as I could to Sil. 

He didn’t look up or respond for a while, he hadn’t disarmed and was absentmindedly bending his bow between his hands. ‘Are all your adventures like this?’ He asked quietly. 

I sagged a little in place, ‘I send a lot of people to Falon’Din,’ I confessed, and I looked across the orange stained sky, the Breach was so far away from this place that there was no tell tale hint of green. ‘I’ve got to heal the sky, at least, I have to try.’ 

‘What about Plan C?’ He asked. 

I nodded, ‘maybe, not right now.’ I didn’t have the heart to tell him I’d almost gone through with our backup plan when I though the clan had been destroyed. 

Luckily, our conversation was over as Merrill and Blackwall returned empty handed from their pursuit of Erimond. 

Blackwall was the first to speak, ‘we chased him for over two miles, but the bastard got away.’ He said, before slumping next to Sil on the step. 

‘Which direction was he headed?’ Stroud asked Blackwall, his back turned to Merrill. 

It was a brief discussion between the two, during which Stroud appeared to age, ‘Adamant, he’s going to Adamant.’ 

‘What’s an Adamant?’ Merrill asked, before anyone else had the chance to. 

When Stroud didn’t turn to acknowledge her, she walked forward into the conversation, and Stroud closed his eyes for the briefest of moments. ‘An abandoned Warden fortress, it’s never been taken, big enough to-’ He sighed heavily, and turned to me, ‘this was just a practise run, Inquisitor, I think I know where the Wardens are.’ 


	104. Planning the Approach

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lavellan and the gang discuss what to do next. Should they wait to attack Adamant or charge it now? Can they afford to find reinforcements, and who can they trust to join them?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel like this fics been getting a little dark lately, so enjoy some silliness in this chapter :S

I screwed up my face and rubbed at my face, trying to concentrate, trying to think. To measure the pros against the cons and plot against a red lyrium scarred being intent on apotheosis. 

_ Mother Mythal, help me judge this.  _

I opened my eyes and the expectant faces looked back. Everyone was waiting for me to decide, did we go straight to Adamant with no backup and try to free as many Grey Wardens as possible, or wait the three weeks it would take for backup from our army? How many Grey Wardens would die in that time, how many spirits torn screaming from the fade? We couldn’t afford to wait, but we couldn’t afford to go in unprepared. 

‘We have to wait.’ I said finally, to which Cassandra immediately nodded while Blackwall let out a grunt of disapproval. ‘Can we get support from Celene?’ I asked, although I wasn’t entirely sure I wanted to call in any favours so quickly. 

Cassandra frowned, ‘I do not think the Orlesian army is fully united after the Civil War, perhaps it is best to leave them out of this one.’ 

I nodded and twisted the woven bracelet around my arm,  _ let’s see how far I can stretch my luck,  _ I thought bitterly. 

‘Any chance the other Grey Wardens will join us?’ I questioned, this time to Blackwall and Stroud.

‘Maybe,’ Blackwall said, but his tone was completely unsure.

Stroud laughed and clapped Blackwall hard on the back, ‘you are too optimistic friend, our brethren would never help attack one of our fortresses, and what if crossing into Orlais leaves others open to the Calling. It is not something I would wish upon them.’

Blackwall grimaced, ‘yes, of course.’ He said quickly. 

In fiddling with my bracelet, I had managed to tie the whole thing in a knot,  _ Dirthamen untangle this.  _ I thought with a slight smile and picked at mess with a nail. ‘What about your sister, didn’t you said was a Warden? Would she help us?’ I asked Marina.

Marina, has twisted a chair the wrong was and was sat with one leg about the chair back, she tapped her fingers and considered. ‘It would be difficult to get a message to her, and she might not reply even if you could.’ 

‘Where is she?’

Her fingers stilled, ‘she went on a tour of some ancient dwarven ruins, right history buff that one.’ 

I frowned, Cassandra’s mouth had fallen into an ‘o’ and her eyes narrowed. And she looked like some gears in her head were turning.  _ I was missing something.  _

‘I _am_ sorry,’ Stroud said darkly. 

_ Fuck.  _ Marina spotted the exact moment I worked it out. ‘You would have liked her,’ she finished. And shot a dark look at Stroud. 

‘I didn’t realise…’ 

Marina held up her hands and spread them, the topic was over and a line drawn underneath,  _ no harm done.  _

I swallowed, ‘is there anyone else?’ Then I paused, as I caught sight of the dark blue mask of  _ vallaslin  _ my cousin wore, ‘oh, Sil, you’re not going.’ 

Sil, who had been sat watching the entire thing with a look of utter bemusement, stood hand gesticulating wildly. ‘Why not.’ He demanded.

‘Deshanna would kill me if neither of us came back.’ I countered.

Marina pointed her fingers at themselves, ‘that doesn’t work.’ She pointed out amused. 

I raised an eyebrow, ‘you’ve met her.’ I smiled.

‘She would find a way,’ Sil agreed sulkily, but crossed his arms and sat down annoyed at being excluded. 

Cassandra cleared her throat with a grunt, ‘would the Chargers be better placed with us or left to defend Skyhold?’ She asked, drawing the conversation skilfully back on track. 

I chewed my lip, ‘Skyhold, I think.’ 

Cassandra nodded her approval.

‘Nearby is Griffon Wing Keep, we could use it as a staging post.’ Stroud added suddenly, looking up as though he thought had just occurred to him. 

‘Venatori have it remember.’ Marina shrugged as though it was hardly an interesting revolution, ‘we couldn’t get to that well a week ago because they have it locked up tighter than the Divine’s legs.’ 

Cassandra gave her a dirty look.

To which Marina corrected, ‘or a seeker’s’ and gave Cassandra searching glance up and down before winking at her. 

Cassandra flushed and looked away, arms crossed over her chest as if the whole thing was utterly beneath her.

‘We could poison the well.’ Merrill suggested brightly, too brightly, as there was a moment of silence as everyone digested the disconnect between her tone and what she was planning. 

It was Dorian who finally cut through the silence with a sniff in Merrill’s direction, ‘utterly terrifying,’ he decreed and then rubbed his thumb and forefinger against his chin. ‘I would remind everyone that these are my countrymen,’ he paused for effect, and then smiled broadly at Merrill, ‘make sure you us something particularly stingy.’ 

‘Wait you’re not actually going to poison a well,’ Sil interrupted, looking concerned, ‘is that an underhanded  _ trick.’  _ He spoke the last word a fraction quieter, his tone change imperceivable by all except Merrill and myself. 

Merrill looked over, but she didn’t have anything to say, then she looked back at me with her wide green eyes.

‘We won’t poison the well, unless it’s necessary.’ I stated firmly, the two looked at each other again and then at me.  _ I should have just said no,  _ I thought a moment later when I felt the urge to leave our tent and check the surroundings for anything prowling about.

Sil seemed to notice my discomfort and so asked, ‘can I come to this fortress?’

I considered, ‘don’t get yourself killed.’ I said flatly.

He pursed his lips, ‘I will try.’ 

‘And what about Solas?’ Cassandra asked pointedly, once again steering the conversation in the direction she wished.

‘What about him?’ I answered back, proud that my voice was completely level. 

Cassandra raised a bow at me, ‘you must be protected, Herald, he can fade shift you away from danger if needed.’

_ And that was one of the reasons I hadn’t brought him, and his clear disdain for the Wardens that he had trouble keeping to himself.  _ ‘I cannot imagine anything at Adamant would catch his interest and so he’s well placed helping the researchers back at Skyhold.’ I finished, firmly, we had had this discussion twice before.  _ The conversation is over Cassandra,  _ I willed at her with my eyes. She didn’t look convinced.

‘If it’s just for his fade stepping, and not _thrilling_ conversation, I can give it a try.’ Dorian suggested, immediately standing from his chair and jumping two foot across the large tented space in a flash of dazzling diamond blue light. But when he reappeared his face was green as my marked hand and he stumbled forwards. Hands reaching out at the tented walls, he gave up stumbles from the tent, ‘I think I’m going to be sick!’ He called as he disappeared, 

I watched the empty tent flap swing where he had been a few moments before, and then caught Sil’s eye and we burst out laughing. 

‘I think that is probably enough for the night.’ Cassandra said through a shaking head.

I nodded, ‘yes, sleep well everyone, we’ll tackle Griffon Leg Keep tomorrow.’ 

‘Wing,’ Stroud corrected. 

I waved my hand at him, ‘that too.’ 


	105. Griffon Wing Keep

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lavellan and the gang take Griffon Wing Keep, and Cole shares his knowledge.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh my ancient elvhen gods! 100 kudos! What have I done to deserve such a fantastic audience! Thank you so much everyone for reading, commenting and kudos-ing!! <3

The pre-dawn air wrapped around us like a chilled blanket, ‘You know, I can’t remember the last time I was properly warm.’ Dorian complained again, like an Arbour Wilds parrot mimicking speech on repeat. Cassandra shusshed him, and threw in a disappointed glare for good measure, but I thought was rather pointless as we still had to be about a mile away from Griffon Wing Keep. 

I looked around and spied the boy that I’d once again forgotten was with us. Cole stepped up beside Dorian speaking softly. ‘Squish, splat, she dropped the fruit on the floor and the perfume hung in the air all afternoon.’ 

I blinked at Cole, _had I asked him to come with us?_ _Had he asked to come?_ Trying to remember around Cole was like trying to reach for something that was hidden behind a stone wall. But, I saw that Dorian didn’t respond, but he stopped for a moment, and a weak smile spread across his face and he closed his eyes inhaling deeply. I assumed that he was remembering the afternoon in question. 

Cole turned to me, his face tilted at such an angle that his head appeared to be resting on his shoulder, ‘he doesn’t remember, but I can help.’ 

_ A spirit of Compassion, one who took a form like human, but not quite.  _ Humans don’t just disappear, I thought with a bit of a smile. He hummed and jumped away, half bounding towards Cassandra. She greeted him with a little nod, and pushed a finger to her lips. He mirrored the gesture and wandered besides her, as opposite as two people could be. Cassandra was all taunt and ready anticipation, while Cole seemed to still be growing into his limb, all long and lanky and who never quite knew exactly where to put his arms. 

It was then that I spied Griffon Wing Keep, if I hadn’t known it was Grey Warden construction, I might have assumed it was Tevine in origin. A part of me had expected something like Skyhold or even Caer Branoch, all large grey stone, but this was a red fortress built high upon an outcrop of yellow rock. Huge jutting spikes mounted into the very rock the Keep was built upon. And as we came closer, the tell tale sign of the Warden’s invitation had been left on the Keep’s decor. Including a massive griffon’s head carved into the rock itself, the face watched into the valley below, as though ready for any attack.  _ Didn’t do much good _ , I thought bitterly, apparently Venatori snapped this place up in no time.  _ Now it was time to get it back. _

Sil found me in the gloom, his bow already strung and waiting. Silently, he nodded to two men stood next to a fire on the rampart closest to us. Lookouts. I glanced up to the sky, and grazed the lines of my  _ vallaslin  _ with the back of my wrist. 

 

_ Great Huntress, Andruil, guide my bow,  _

_ my enemies are your enemies and my weapon is your weapon, _

_ reign down your fury and send my arrows true.  _

 

In unison, Sil and I raised our bows, and the twang as he loosed his arrow melted into the sound of my own, and moments later the lookouts were dead. With no one to announce us our party moved towards the front gates. Stroud had made it abundantly clear there was no other way in, despite this, I had an itch to try to scale the sheer rock face and throw myself into the centre of the fortress. I shook my head, and with a flash of warding emerald light spreading across my skin given my Marina, I stepped forward to knock four times on the great wooden doors. 

I stood back and raised my bow. 

It took twenty heartbeats for the door to open and the woman who did took our party in with wide eyes, before stepped back, shrieking and falling backwards. And that was the alarm raised. Cole stepped forward, and knelt by the woman, he asked her something that I couldn’t hear. She shook her head furiously, wide eyes and hands trembling. Cole’s dagger dragged quickly across her throat, he stood looking resigned at the carnage that he’d created and looked upwards towards the soldiers who gathered, swords out, to welcome our arrival. 

‘Well then,’ Marina said stepping forward, her arms almost shrugging as she ignored what Cole had done, trying to dismiss his behaviour, ‘shall we get the rest of them?’ She was smiling but there was a tightness behind the expression and even I could pick out that the corners of her calm fray.

 

Griffon Wing Keep was surprisingly easy to take, all in all. By late afternoon, the Venatori were alternatively slain or fled, with the exception of the handful that recognised Dorian and surrounded with the intention of switched sides. Scout Harding was on her way with a small army of inquisition scouts to convert the place into our temporary base of operations and it felt like our luck was finally turning in this Creators-forsaken place. 

‘They’re down there,’ Blackwall said as I walked by him, he was stood resting against one of the railings by the back of the fortress looking down into the Abyssal Rift. 

I stood by him, dropping my pack to the ground and peering down, ‘if I threw a rock down there do you think it would hit a darkspawn on the head?’ I asked with a smile. 

Blackwall glanced around and found a hunk of rock, broken off from the railing and kicked to one side, he offered it to me, ‘want to find out?’ He grinned. 

I took it with a nod and threw it as hard as I could, it didn’t get anywhere near the Rift. ‘ _ Fenedhis,’  _ I swore, and put a hand on my hip, glaring at the fallen stone and willing it to get up and scoot along the remaining fifty paces. 

Blackwall laughed and scratched his shaggy beard, ‘good arm, Inquisitor.’ 

‘Thank you, Warden,’ I mirrored. 

He stopped laughing and a dark look passed over his face. He opened his mouth to say something-

‘They’re singing down there, a long way down, can you hear them?’ Cole has appeared once again, seemingly from out of thin air and looking intently at Blackwall. I had no idea if I was simply particularly unobservant when it came to Cole’s whereabouts of it he was somehow walking unseen. 

And from Blackwall’s quizzical expression, he could seen him too. Blackwall flashed a distrustful glance at me, ‘no.’ His voice was soft, trying to be unshaken by the question. 

I had the oddest sense that Blackwall was lying to me, could he hear the Calling and was protecting me from the horrors he was enduring?

Cole looked back at Blackwall, ‘it is an old name inside armour that doesn’t fit,’ and then he turned to me, ‘where are the griffons? I thought there would be griffons, at least a feather.’ 

I couldn’t help the little smile that crossed my face,  _ sweet Cole,  _ ‘the griffons are gone, it’s just a leftover name.’ But Blackwall doesn’t seem to find Cole charming in the least, he looked deeply unsettled. 

The spirit-boy, looks utterly broken up for a split second before his face drops back to a neutral expression, instead he surveys Blackwall for a moment, ‘how do you get the hair, on your face? Is it a mask?’ 

Blackwall blinks at him for a long moment, and then looked at me somewhere torn between horrified and thrown completely off kilter, ‘no, it’s a beard, look if you were any other lad your age, I’d tell you that one day you’ll grow one too. But, I don’t know if spirits that become boys get beards.’

Cole twisted to me, tilting his head as he did so. 

I laughed and held up my arms, ‘don’t look at me, I haven’t a clue.’ 

‘I could try.’ Cole said cheerily, rubbing both his hands across his smooth cheeks. 

‘Right,’ said Blackwall, eyes a bit wide, ‘you go and do that then.’ 

Cole stood a little straighter and bounded off.

‘Good luck, have fun-’ Blackwall called after him with a sigh, and once Cole was out of earshot, ‘Cole’s dangerous, unpredictable. Did you hear what he said to that lady at the gates?’ 

I shook my head. 

‘He asked her if she wanted to go back to Tevinter, she didn’t, so he killed her. Some  _ compassion  _ that was.’

I frowned, and glanced the way that Cole had gone. Then Blackwall gave me a tight little bow and stalked off. 

I rubbed the lines beneath my eyes and looked out over the Blighted horizon, ‘it’s going to be a long week.’ I said to no one. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love this conversation between Blackwall and Cole, I'm not 100% sure it fits, but meh :D


	106. Powers of Prophesy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lavellan has some time to spare as the Inquisition's army arrives in the Western Approach. So she goes to see Sil, to see if he can shed some light on the upcoming events.

The next morning, Griffon Wing Keep was filling up rapidly with assorted agents, soldiers and merchants. With the influx of visitors, Cole had disappeared again, though from the general talk I could if I so wished traces his invisible footsteps around the Keep. Blackwall is similarly keeping himself to himself, from a smirking Marina I got the report he’d lost too many games of Wicked Grace, the night before and was licking his wounds.

The morning also saw the Keep being given over to the allegedly capable hands of Knight-Captain Rylen, who was a very austere looking gentleman. He had arrived shortly after dawn, shaking my hand in the _shem_ way as though it was made of glass. He then handed me a still sealed letter of introduction from Leliana. Her letter informed me that he was a close friend of Cullen’s, close enough that Cullen had asked for Rylen to be named as his successor if anything should happen to him. And a twisted form of the code that my mother and I used, being adopted by Leliana and I, told me secretly to never play cards with the Rylen, one because he cheats and two because he was ashamed of the way his hands shook from lyrium withdrawal.

I looked up from the parchment to find that Rylen had already got to work, barking orders at anyone who would listen. I glanced around the slightly startled assembly, and gave them a firm nod, as though to respect the man, and them promptly got out of his way.

It was almost noon, when I found myself leaning on the parapet, enjoying the scraps of warming sunlight. Cullen’s faith had not been misplaced in Rylen, as the Keep had been whipped into shape, even with new arrivals streaming in hourly.

It was there a flustered Cassandra found me. ‘You have to tell him to stop.’

I straightened my back and blinked at her, ‘tell who to stop what?’

She grunted, ‘Silver?’ She said his name like a question, still frowning.

‘What has Sil done?’ I queried, wondering what in all Thedas he could have to so offended her.

‘You cousin,’ she snapped in a very accusatory tone, ‘is reading the fortunes of some serving girls.’ Her arms crossed across her purple chestplate emblazoned with the sharp white eye.

I almost laughed, I hadn’t realised he’d brought his cards with him. I would have liked a reading from him truth be told, he was rather good. But one glance at the stony faced Cassandra told me a truth I didn’t need Sil’s cards to know. She was not amused.

‘If you want your cards read, you’ll have to wait your turn.’ I said after a long moment, trying for a smile.

Despite her crossed arms, I saw her flex her fingers. ‘I was not trying to,’ she sighed, ‘it is too easy to forget that…’ she paused again, her eyes flicking notably to my _vallaslin._ ‘Forget it, Inquisitor.’

She turned to leave, and I grabbed her arm, ‘wait, Cassandra, why does it bother you so much?’

A look of reverence crossed her face, as she spoke, ‘only the Maker can reveal the future.’

 _The Maker and Sil,_ I thought, suppressing a giggle at the esteemed company my cousin kept. ‘Does that mean you’ve never had your cards read?’

‘Of course not.’

The grin I’d been holding in, spread across my face like wildfire.

‘No, no, absolutely not.’ Cassandra stammered, swiping her hands in front of her as though that would remove the idea from my head.

‘What is the point of Inquisition, if not a time for cultural exchange?’ I asked, in a playfully snooty tone.

Cassandra’s hands dropped as she considered, but still looked extremely doubtful, ‘to heal the sky?’

I waved a hand, ‘that too, anyway, I had to hang out in a chantry for like three months. Give Sil a go, I promise you won’t burst into flames.’ _Though she might like that..._

 

Sil has collected quite a gathering of assorted people, far more than the two serving girls as Cassandra had said. Some ex-templars and even a little gaggle of giggling chantry sisters where in the mix. Although the sisters fled the moment they spied Cassandra.

‘Right,’ I said, loudly as I entered the room. Some cleared out at the sight of me, perhaps worried that I was here to break up the party rather than join the queue.

Sil looked up from his work, to see what the intrusion was. His hair had been braided into four separate plaits that swung about his face as he moved.

He rolled his eyes at me and flicked his glance to the far side of the alcove where the queue ended. Before he continued explaining the cards drawn to a green and brown clad agent. ‘So perhaps you should write him?’ Sil suggested and the man nodded, lost in thought.

I took a seat against the wall with Cassandra, who looked dubiously at the seat. After a long moment she sat next to me stiff as a rod, looking almost unblinkingly forward. The faintest blush stained her cheek as though she was utterly ashamed to be seen here.

Making myself purposely oblivious to her discomfort, I lent my head back against the wall and relaxed into the cool stone wall behind.

‘I don’t think it’s safe here you know.’ One serving girl whispered to another in front of us.

I sat forward, opening my eyes. ‘There are sulphur pits nears by, the scent of which is enough to make you go mad.’

‘That’s not true,’ the other whispered back, her hand reaching her hip.

‘It is,’ the first insisted, ‘just this morning a boy with a squirrel pelt tied to his face asked me how I liked his beard!’

Cassandra’s impersonation of a statue cracked and she flicked me a concerned glance.

I didn’t reply, I only closed my eyes and sat back against the stone. _Good try Cole._

 

I sat cross legged in front of Sil, he looked a little tired, and knotted two braids together to keep his hair out of his face. ‘Sure you want to know?’ He asked, holding his deck out towards me.

I nodded, and tried to ignore Cassandra next to me, practically breathing down my neck and watching every move with three eyes. So I lent forwards and knocked on the cards four times. ‘And I tell you when to stop?’

Sil nodded, shifting slightly on the floor and started shuffling the deck.

I glanced at Cassandra and then back at the cards moving back and forth in Sil’s hands. I nodded at him to stop and he flicked his wrists drawing his cards smoothly across the ground into an arch. ‘Pick three.’ He offered.

I took three cards and lay them out in a little row, and then reconsidered, swapping one of the cards I’d taken back into the deck and pulling another. I frowned at the backs of the cards and rearranged the three into a new order.

Sil snorted, ‘happy yet?’

‘Yes.’

He moved his hand over the first card, then looked back at me, cat like grin across his face, ‘sure?’

‘Read the damned cards.’ I snapped.

He raised his hands mockingly defensively for a moment and flicked the first over. _The Moons._ The black bordered card showed a rough sketch of two mismatched circles, hovering above a wolf and dog howling at them. ‘Dreaming, unknowing, fear and difficulty,’ Sil began-

I cut across him, ‘reshuffle. I don’t like these.’

‘Tough,’ Sil said smartly, smacking away my outstretched hand, ‘you picked them.’ But he moved quickly onto the next card, _The Hierophant,_ was scrawled neatly on the bottom of the card. The woman on the card, wore a stylised Keeper’s robe, and carried a staff. ‘Nice.’ Sil whistled.

I crossed my arms, ‘and what does it mean?’

Sil booped me on the nose and gave me a smug look, but didn’t answer. Instead he flicked over the next card. _Seven of Cups._ Sil grimaced, ‘so it looks like a religious figure will tell you something you didn’t know.’ He tapped impatiently at the grounds with his fingers. ‘Who are you?’ He asked _The Hierophant._

Cassandra snorted, and Sil looked up at me, and we both looked across at her. _The Right Hand of the Divine._ ‘This is ridiculous.’ She said.

I laughed, ‘I already knew you’d say that.’ Then I looked back at Sil’s cards, _I would have gotten straighter answers from Cole,_ I thought mutinously, perhaps I’d overestimated my cousin’s abilities.

Sil didn’t laugh, instead he frowned and tapped the first card, ‘maybe in a dream?’ He picked up _The Moons,_ ‘look to what lies behind your fears, something you cannot see in sunlight.’ Then he placed it down and picked up the _Seven of Cups_ , ‘your greatest fears and greatest desires.’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Based on the cards, the Moon, the Hierophant and the Seven of Cups.


	107. Mark of the Huntress

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lavellan has a dream, it’s a good dream <3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: nsfw, and references to a past Solas romance (kinda)

I woke up on my side, an arm wrapped around my waist, in the big bed in Skyhold. ‘Vhenan,’ Solas greeted, and I leaned up to taste him. My heart hurt with longing, and I knew it would be at least another month before I saw him again in the flesh. 

His slim fingers traced the lines of my petulant frown, as though he sensed my mood exactly, ‘I can always come with the army, if you want me.’ His honey words were soft and so tempting, and I gazed at his wine-stained lips. 

I took a sharp intake of breath, I wanted him. Wanted him to be next to me again, whatever conjured world we resided in at the moment. was simply not good enough. He always said it was easier for him this side of the veil, but both my feet were firmly planted in the Waking realm, and I wanted him between my hips there. However, I wasn’t complaining, I would take this strange go-between place for the chance to lie, lust soaked in his arms. Still I shook my head sadly, for a second wondering if he longed for me as much. I sighed, twisting a hand up the ladder of his ribs, ‘you’d be terribly bored, my love.’ 

He murmured an agreement, and I splayed a hand across his chest. Since when had he taken to wearing fur? I stroked my hand along the luxurious fabric, thick and warm and perfect for dragging him closer for another achingly desperate kiss. I showered nibbles and licks down his jaw, expecting any moment to cut myself on the sharp lines of his face. 

I expected him to pull away, tell me it wasn’t safe. But instead his searching desperate hands found their way down to my hips pulling me across to straddle him. The action elicited a moan, drawn and coaxed from the back of my throat.  _ Fuck- _

I reached down to unhook the loops of his belt, and pushed the pelt off his shoulder, my frantic fingers quickly freeing him of his shirt. In response one of his hand twisted grasping knots in my hair as the other gripped furiously at my hip. He was bruisingly tight, and painfully necessary, with marks that would be gone the moment I woke. 

I run my hands down his chest, stopping at the ancient scar of an arrow wound, ‘ever going to tell me how that happened?’ I asked, bending down to lick to the mark. It was an awful tease and I knew it, he’d been uncharacteristically evasive on the topic. 

Using the hand wrapped in my hair, Solas guides me gently back up. ‘I will consider it,’ he practically growled against my neck. ‘Why do you care?’ He murmured, breath hot against my skin but utterly distracted by the task of removing my clothing.

I pulled back, and grabbed both of his wrists, pinning them down on each side of his head. ‘Because you won’t tell me the truth.’ I replied, with a wicked smile.

His eyes darkened for a moment and he licked his lip. ‘Vhenan,’ the tone is warning, commanding, ‘unhand me.’ 

Once I might have trembled and done immediately as bid, but I only flash another toothy grin, ‘I’ll consider it.’ I repeat back to him. I know he could break free if he really wanted, my restraints are hardly worthy to be called restraining.

Instead he stretched up, I think to growl against my neck. But he bites, playful but firm. I arched against him, and my hands flutter away uselessly, releasing him on instinct to get better purchase. ‘Have you considered, I have not told you for a reason?’ 

‘I thought you liked it when I asked you questions,’ my words soft as sin against his skin. 

Solas flipped us then, and I found myself suddenly lying on my back, his weight pushing me into the soft  _ shem  _ bed. ‘I did not tell you because the story involves a old lover.’

‘Mmmmh,’ I considered, heart beating like a drum in my ears, ‘now I’m even more curious, my love.’ I drawled, and  I wrapped my arms around the back of his neck, but he doesn’t let me pull him closer. Instead he simply studied my face, as though looking for the lie. 

When he didn’t find it, he sighed and gave me a small smile, ‘it was,’ he paused, ‘let’s call it a disagreement, that ended with me tied to a tree and used as target practice.’ 

I sat up, pushing him with me. Horror etched into my face. ‘That’s barbaric.’ I whispered, entangling him tight into my embrace.

‘I got revenge on the huntress.’ His words betray no emotion, but I am torn. 

‘Good,’ I snarled and then I leaned back suddenly, ‘they were Dalish?’ The words cold and copper on my tongue, who else could be considered a huntress? I want to rip them limb from limb and feed their marrow to the Dread Wolf. 

He shook his head, and the stains of a smile appear on his kiss-bruised lips. ‘No, she was just a fair-shot.’ And while his words are almost reassuring, his tongue is far better at it. 

_ My love,  _ I though,  _ sweet man, I will protect him with tooth and claw and blade _ . I am fueled by desire and fury, and by the time I am fully reassured, there were scratch marks down his back, and my skin is covered in love-bites and fingerprint bruises. 

‘I will never let anyone hurt you like that again.’ I promise when I am tucked against him, my head in the crook of his neck.

He strokes my hair, ‘I will not hold you to that.’ He replied so softly, I think that I might have dreamt it. 

 


	108. Calm before the Firestorm

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The night and morning before Adamant. Lavellan can't sleep. Will Elgar'nan shine on their battle?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Little bit shorter than usual, but I thought thematically this was best on its own rather than putting it with the next part of Adamant :D

The ceiling of the tent rose in a steep slope above me, slightly curved and shuddering ever so slightly in the breeze. The thin wooden tent poles cracked arhythmically,  _ click, click _ , making it impossible to sleep. The night air was thick with tension, and I could see a thousand others around me, lying awake. Watching the canvas of their tents roll in the wind, bobbing up and down, like the waves of an vast empty sea. 

My chest was tight, and it was difficult to breath, it was cold. Bristling, burning cold that scorched a path through my lungs. But it was also far too hot, I tossed the pillow to the floor and then threw the blankets with them. Then, minutes later I was groping the darkness to recover them as it was shivering again. I glared up at the tent above me, willing the sun to break the rules of Elgar'nan and just rise already. Stuck in the desert, I was trapped in a sand timer, the grains of sand trickling by too slowly. I felt like a bow that had been strung too tight. I rubbed my eyes, I wanted the night to end and the dawn to never come. 

The relentless wind had stopped howling and the air hung thick and apprehensive, as though the very world knew we were standing on the cusp of a great battle. Our target, Adamant, unshaking, built during the Second Blight to stand resolute throughout the ages. But the wyres were empty, and the halls would be filled with demons if they were not already.  I knew it was there, a great eye watching from just below the horizon. Adamant, the guardian of the Abyss, tomorrow it would fall. It was a shame, but I tried to console myself. _ Nothing ever lasted,  _ a story the Dalish could tell the Warden’s well. Did I have the right to destroy it? Did I have the right to rain down fire and rock, to tear down the walls that have stood firms for centuries? Did I have the right to change the future?

 

With a final glance towards the cot in which I hadn't slept a wink, I stood and left the tent. Dawn was still a little way off, but the sky was to the west was tinted crimson. Before the day was through the ground would be as well. Rows of the soldiers’ tents, marched in perfect rows for as far as the eye could see. I checked and rechecked my armour, refasted the guard on my right arm, and counted the arrows in my quiver. 

‘Els, give me a hand,’ Sil’s voice called from two tents across. He was perched by a little iron grate, which held a tiny wisps of morning fire. The air around it faintly smelt of Sylaise’s sweet herbs. His arms was tangled in his hair, and he was wearing a rather concentrated expression. As I got closer I realised he was braiding his hair with golden thread. 

‘Absolutely not,’ I retorted, the golden thread a mark of Elgar’nan,  _ he was preparing to go into battle _ . 

Sil tilted his head at me, sly smile spread across his face, ‘I’m taller than you.’ He said adamantly, letting me know that my first battle of the day was already lost, he would not be taking any commands from me on this matter. 

I crossed my arms, and then resignedly sat behind him, taking the half started braids from him and working the thread through his thick silver hair. I twisted the thread through, thinking of Elgar’nan,  _ leader of the gods, the warrior god, victorious lord _ , and made sure that Sil’s braids would hold and keep his hair from his eyes. It had been over a year since I’d done this for Sil, not since we’d found a temple of June overrun with giant spiders. We’d returned two days later with golden braids and cleared the place. As my hands weaves I found that the motions were as familiar to me as breathing. 

When it was done, he indicated for me to twist around and in return he wove the golden thread through my dark curls. ‘You look tired,’ Sil noted, a little sadly. 

‘I am,’ I replied. And he had nothing to say in response. Then, once my own braids were finished, he sat back besides me, and we both watched the flames lick upwards in silence. 

‘Elgar’nan, wrath and thunder, give us glory,’ Sil began, his voice low but clear, and his fingertips touching the dark blue  _ vallaslin  _ he wore across both eyes. 

I glanced across, then up at the sky, my own fingertips snaking to my blood lines, ‘Elgar’nan, wrath and thunder, give us victory.’ I answered. 

‘Burn the ground, and bring winged death,’ a third voice added.

I looked up to see Merrill, looking only slightly worse for wear dark marks under her eyes and claw marks unhealed scratched across her forearms and up the backs of her legs. Her expression was guarded. Her hands were gripped tightly around her staff.  _ She wasn’t sure if she was welcome to join us. _

Without another word, Sil simply handed her what was left of the golden thread. She nodded, some of the tension leaving her posture. She wrapped one piece in a criss cross around the grip of her staff, and knotted another around the string that tied her hair back in a ponytail. 

When she was finished, I patted the ground next to me,  _ inviting her to join us.  _

Before she could move, the wind changed direction and carried with it the Chant of Light, sung softly by half a hundred voice. I knew Cullen had planned to lead the soldiers in a devotion at dawn, and sure enough the sun’s first rays danced joyfully across the land. 

Sil sighed a little and pulled his legs out straight in front of him, ‘gods are laughing at us,’ he said as he stretched his arms above his head, and bent at the waist, stretching to touch his toes.  

I said nothing, he had taken the words right out of my mouth. I pulled my knees closer and watched the flames. This was the calm before the firestorm.

Merrill sat next to me, slipping her hand into mine, ‘we will survive, I think.’ 

I squeezed her hand in returned, grateful for the comfort. ‘But Falon’Din will host a feast tonight,’ I replied bitterly. I couldn’t help noting the rows of tents, each one holding people who would perish,  _ for me, for a false cause, for a fake herald?  _ I glanced down at Merrill’s wrist, the red binding cord was still there.  _ Red blood running down the steps, red lyrium shards, red fog covering blue eyes.  _


	109. The Edge of the Abyss

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lavellan and the gang finally get to Adamant, nothing could go wrong right?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW - violence, death, my attempt at french

‘Wardens!’ A hoarse voice bellowed from somewhere above us. Scurrying feet above us, and a shower of arrows rained down. Then a sort of eerie quiet hung over the entry point. We had maybe minutes before we were thrown back into battle, this was not a lull, but the eye of the storm. 

The shattered remains of the gate door, were trodden beneath our invading feet. The battering ram discarded to our right, I glanced around to make a mental note of my companions. Dorian looked simply bedraggled, as though he’d just stumbled from a long night in the Herald’s Rest. Blackwall was limping, his right leg had been struck with an arrow, and his greatsword momentarily lowered as the lull washed across us. Marina and Merrill were covered in cuts and I couldn’t tell exactly how many had been self inflicted. 

Sil appeared to be holding up alright, one of his braids was torn, but his quiver was dangerously low,  _ Andruil give me strength, he never checked, he never kept count, did he think arrows just appeared from thin air? _ I passed half of my quiver across. Cassandra’s face was splattered with someone else’s blood raised an eyebrow at the exchange, and -  _ sweet Sylaise, what was Cole doing here? _

I didn’t have time to ask that question as Stroud led us forward, ‘we have to find Clarel.’ He said with a grim determination. The Warden shepherded us through the castle. Barrelling forward, the very sight of him was enough to make pockets of men throw down their weapons, to inspire others to join us. Although some fought ever harder, the idea of a traitor among our ranks enough to reinvigorate their spent energies. 

We paused in our mission to help the siege, cutting down the defending army atop the parapet to allow more inquisition troops to scale the ancient walls. A group of four Warden’s approached, as Blackwall was tying one of the ladder to the stone battlement. 

They must have been ten paces away, advancing slowly with swords drawn when Stroud called, ‘halt!’

Marina cast anyway, and Stroud whipped his hand back to try to grab her staff. An emerald ward shivered over my skin, and Stroud seemed to realise she’d heard the instruction so he dropped his fight with her and turned back to the four wardens, his hands raised as though to offer a surrender.

‘Sophie, please, stop this madness.’ Stroud begged. 

The woman I assumed was Sophie, only paused for a moment, ‘ _ de quel côté êtes-vous, Jean-Marc _ ?’ She spat at him, and continued her advance.

He huffed, and glanced around, then pointed back to me, ‘ _ la héraut d’Andraste _ .’ One of the Wardens behind her paused, hesitantly lowering his weapon. 

Sophie also paused and I saw her eyes glance over my  _ vallaslin _ and then down at my glowing green hand, her face scrunched together in utter disgust as her gaze lingered on my ears. ‘ _ La hétaïre du créateur dieu n'a pas sa place ici _ .’ 

I glanced back at Sil, my crash course in Orlesian had not prepared me for this rapid fire exchange,  _ and what the fuck did the creators have to do with any of this?  _ I didn’t get an answer, Sil was staring straight ahead, new arrow aimed directed at her throat. 

Sil however didn’t get a chance, as Stroud moved with surprising speed, to cut the Warden called Sophie down. One of her companions continued the fight, while the other two surrendered themselves. 

 

The battle went in a blur of blue and silver, set against a maze of black stone fortress. There was barely time to recognise the great loss of life at our hands as we sprinted onwards, the cruelty of knowing that we were murdering the wardens to try to save them from themselves. Blackwall’s limp was getting worse, and I decided we would stop for a moment once we turned the next corner. Stroud leading the party approached, but held his hand for us to stop. 

He looked exhausted, ‘Clarel,’ he sighed. 

Blackwall lent against the wall, I flashed him a look,  _ guard our rear, it would give him thirty seconds of rest bite.  _

‘Wardens! We have been betrayed by the very world we seek to protect!’ A woman’s heavily accented voice sounded clear. It rung out like a bell, and I found myself almost curious to see what she looked like. I half expected some kind of monstrous twisted caricature of a Warden, complete with red lyrium shards, a female Corypheus. 

Sil scooted next to me, and crouched low to the ground, peering around. He righted himself and rested his head against the brick, ‘Erimond, I can get him.’ He said pulling a new arrow from his quiver. I glanced across at Stroud, raising an eyebrow quizzically. 

Grim faced he nodded, ‘I  _ can  _ reason with Clarel.’ He added, but I wasn’t sure if he was convincing me or himself. 

We finally stepped around the corner, Sil’s arrow flying ahead of us the only messenger of our arrival. While aimed true, it bounced off Erimond’s wards harmlessly and clattered to the ground. 

‘Stop them, we must complete the ritual.’ The Tevinter man exclaimed, peering down at the arrow that had had his name on it.

I saw the woman I took to be Clarel, who was indeed every aspect of a monster, but not the kind like Corypheus, just the  _ shem  _ kind. I’m her arms stood a young elven girl, bright eyed and proud. Clarel’s dagger dragged across her throat and she dropped after a heartbreaking moment to the ground. Her blood spilled out across the cold stone, her sacrifice feeding an angry green rift in the centre of the courtyard that began spluttering to life. The death tearing the veil just a little bit more. 

‘Stop this, Clarel, if you do this it is exactly what Erimond wants!’ I shouted despite myself, at the woman with elvish blood dripping down her hands. I didn’t know in what world she would listen to me, but I could only try in this one.

Erimond laughed, ‘what I want?’ He twisted to address the Warden, ‘to stop the darkspawn, to stop the blights once and for all.’  _ It was a joke to him. _

‘He will bind the Wardens to Corypheus!’ Stroud shouted, stepping forward, willingly disarming himself as he sheathed his sword..

Clarel froze, ‘he’s dead.’ She replied, glancing down at the dead girl at her feet. She stepped over the body to come closer to us, ‘Jean-Marc, he’s dead.’ She repeated, as though her words would make it true. She looked terrified, then her face hardened. She turned towards the rift, ‘bring it through.’ 

‘Don’t you understand, this kind of blood magic,’ Marinas hands flew to exaggerat her words, ‘you’ve ordered men and women to die for nothing.’ Marina added, impassioned her staff dancing in her hands, eyes set firming on whatever was going to walk out of the rift. 

Stroud tried again, ‘please, brothers and sisters. You’re bravery is honorable, but, Clarel you’ve been tricked.’ 

I felt Sil shuffle slightly to the side of me, his unease radiating off him in waves. His unease matched my own,  _ the bravery of slaughtering elves _ . In the heartbeat, I saw a shadow of Cole whispering unknowable persuasion behind Clarel’s ear. 

Clarel scarred face relaxed, and she reached for Erimond, providing a gentle brush against his arm. ‘Perhaps we should test these claims, to prevent more bloodshed.’

He shrugged her off, battering her away like she was a fly on a hot afternoon and no longer worth his intention. His full attention turned on me. ‘My master thought you might show up, Thief, enjoy our gift to welcome you.’ He raised his staff into the air and slammed it into the ground, red fog erupting from the place where his stave touched the ground. Red tendrils of magic, red that reminded me of Sylaise’s fires, but it should have reminded me of Mythal. A reptilian scream pierced the air and a corrupted dragon soared across the air on torn decaying wings. 

‘Andraste’s tits,’ I heard Blackwall curse behind me. Cassandra must have been shocked as well, as I did not hear a chastisement for the language used. 

Skidding forward, I summoned a bolt of green lightning from my hand to close the fade rift,  _ hoping to close it before another came through,  _ but it was a heartbeat too late as a pride demon had managed to push through. It roared and as we braced to fight it, I glanced to see the back of Erimond was disappearing down a corridor behind him. His staff twirling happily across his hands. 

Cassandra shouted her battle cry and charged, followed quickly by Stroud. The demon swiped a clawed hand across and caught Cassandra square in the chest throwing her across the courtyard. She landed dazed against the wall, and Merrill rushed towards her. Helping her back to her feet. 

It was Dorian who struck the final blow on the pride demon, electrocuting it with a shower of purple sparks that tore through the mottled patches on the demon's skin. 

We had no time to regroup, as the dragon perched upon the battlements above us and rained fire upon us. I darted to Blackwall who reached out for me. Pulling me tight towards him and sheltering us under his large Warden’s shield. The flames licked around us, and I was sure my legs were going to catch on fire, but then it was over. Unscatched but for a burn that stung like Mythal’s vengeance on my foot. 

I twisted to see the others, Sil was staring at me wide-eyed, still half holding onto Dorian who’s fade-stepped him away from danger. Then Sil looked up at the dragon and my gaze followed his. A terrible sight awaited me, corruption pulsed around the dragon, and I knew in my bones it was corrupted.  _ An archdemon.  _

‘Go!’ Someone shouted, it could have been Cassandra or Marina, but I didn’t looked back to check, just sprinted forward, dragging the limping Blackwall with me. 

Dodging dragon’s breath, clutching claws and the resulting crumbling rock as we raced forward. Tracking Erimond through the labyrinthine fortress, until we came upon his again on an outstretched crop of rock reaching over the Abyssal Ridge. What must once have been a bridge that crumbled away into the void below. 

Erimond was locked in battle with Clarel, two experiences mages facing off as an archdemon wheeled overhead twisting somersaults. The dragon that once would, could have been pretty if not for the knowledge of exactly what it was. It swooped down, with all the ferocity of a particularly angry bird of prey and snatched Clarel up from where she stood in its half-dotted face. Then it spat her out onto the stone, where she splayed, blood trickling from her, mirroring the elven girl she’s cut down for a dream of a world without blight. I looked down at her with a twisted sense of disgust, and stepped over Clarel. Headed towards Erimond. 

I trained by bow upwards, aimed at the archdemon for all the good that it would do. Another screech tore through the air, and then, a rough croaked Orlesian voice behind me whispered, ‘in death…’ 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I haven’t written anything in French in like ten years, so let’s see how much my three years of school girl French have paid off. I’m sure I’ve got some words wrongs or accents in the wrong place, and if anyone wants to correct me, please feel free!  
> (Plus I really enjoy that in the French language DAI, the Maker is called Créateur, and I’ve always wanted to do something with that.)
> 
> Translations - 
> 
> De quel côté êtes-vous, Jean-Marc - which side are you on, Jean-Marc?
> 
> la héraut d’Andraste - the herald of Andraste
> 
> ‘La hétaïre du créateur dieu n'a pas sa place ici - The hetaera of the Maker doesn’t have any place here. 
> 
> Hetaera, a kind of Ancient Greek concubine/courtesan. I picked that word because it sounds a bit like Héraut, and (magic jazz hands) let’s pretend it’s a common Tevene word - referencing the Orlesian propaganda that Hellana is a lesser bride of the Maker and the play where she is compared to the Magister who broke into the Black City.


	110. Fall in the Fade

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lavellan and the gang falls, and they find themselves in the fade!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Huge thank you to FenHello, for letting me steal this chapter name! I hope it is everything you wanted it to be <3
> 
> TW - character death and injury

‘In death… sacrifice.’ Clarel croaked, her words her death rattle, as she raised her staff weakly and slammed it down with all the strength that she had left. The last eruption of Clarel’s power exploded into the air, a visible shockwave emanated from the spot where her staff hit the ground. What was left of Clarel was pushed by her own explosion, shoved aside.

Although directed at the archdemon-dragon it hit everyone, I had to take a step back and my head rung. But Clarel’s last action had successfully targeted the dragon, it recoiled from the shockwave, flapped twice and then folded its wings in on itself. It’s necksnapped back with a sickening jolt, accompanied by a horrible crack that echoed through the air. It make a nosedive, tumbling out of the sky, dropping like a rock. It did not crash, at least I never heard the crash as it fell into the abyss, down and down so deep in the fissure that split the world itself. It must have plummeted beyond even the Deep Roads, into the very core of the world if some stories are to be believed. 

Erimond cried out as the dragon fell, and turned back to us his face torn by rage, his staff swirling about him he cast a two dozen spells in a handful of heartbeats. Our party ducked and dived for cover, but a single spell from Dorian had Erimond flat on his back and groaning. 

‘You never did learn a decent ward, did you Livius?’ He called, a smirk across his face. But the smirk was wiped away, as the broken bridge began to collapse. A few stones, a handful of bricks dropped, and then it was clear the integrity of the bridge had gone. Shaken loose by Clarel’s shockwave. 

Merrill was closest to the edge, and Dorian sprinted towards her, grabbing her and fade shifting back from the crumbling platform. It wasn’t enough, but the time he’d emerged twenty paces forward more of the path was gone. 

It all happened in a couple heartbeats, before I could do anything I felt the ground fall out from under me. A scream was torn from my lungs, as the pressure crushed my lungs. I couldn’t see the bottom of the Abyss, red and brown rock rushed past me so fast it was simply a blur of colours. 

I reached for Sil, but it was no good. He was too far above me, his arms wrapped around his chest. I saw his face and hated myself, I should have made him stay behind. I couldn’t reach him.  _ Deshanna was going to kill me, I’d killed both of us.  _

I heard Marina scream that she loved Merrill, words ripped away from her the moment she spoke, and I realised dumbly that I’d never even properly said goodbye to Solas _.  _ Would he know my last thoughts were of him? How could he? A shiver of regret ran through my blood, he’s never find my body and I’d never get a tree.  _ Fuck,  _ I’d never  _ even _ get another lecture on the fade. The regret sat heavily on my chest, and then-

_ Creators, the fade!  _ I realised with horrific certainty, it was a bad idea. It was a really, really, really, bad idea. It had gone so absolutely not well the last time, the magistrate had turned the world upside down and the blights had started. Could I? 

We had fallen so far I couldn’t see the sun,  _ Elgar’nan, is this your victory? _ There was no time to pray, no time to look for certainty. I looked down at my green glowing hand and tore the very fabric of the universe open in front of us. 

 

I woke up on the ground, my arm tucked under my head and I groaned as I sat up. I must have been covered in bruises and muscles I didn’t know I had ached. It was difficult to breath, and I didn’t know if that was the stale air or if I’d cracked a rib. 

I saw Marina first, she was stood near me. Examining her arms stretched in front of her as though she didn’t believe her hands were real. I didn’t believe they were real, as she was stood at a right angle to me, impossible. But there she was on an outcrop of rock, I expected her to fall, but she didn’t. I couldn’t make sense of it, Stroud walked into view. He then crouched diagonally to both Marina and me, his hand touched the dirt and pulled a handful into the air, it fell down, until it didn’t. And then it swirled through the air, like a dream that wasn’t a dream. 

I closed my eyes and rolled onto my back.

‘How hard did I hit my head?’ I heard Cassandra ask. 

No one answered, except for Cole, who wailed and ran into Cassandra’s arms. Cassandra looked deeply uncomfortable. She tried to make soothing sounds, but she had the maternal instincts of a trebuchet. 

The boy, who was completely visible, pulled away from her suddenly, ‘this place is wrong.’ He stepped away and picked up a rock, it floated away from him as though it was a feature taken by the breeze, he rubbed his hands across his trousers, ‘I made myself forget when I made myself real.’ He turned back to Cassandra, his voice raising in pitch until it was a sob, ‘but I know it wasn't like this.’ 

Cassandra’s eyes were wide, ‘this is the…’ she twisted taking in the stale green-tainted air, ‘to walk in the fade and live?’

‘No, no, nope, no.’ Sil said, lying spread eagled on the ground. I reached my hand out for him and he took him and climbed to his feet.  _ Wherever we were, we’d get out and Deshanna wouldn’t kill me.  _ His face scrunched as he looked around, ‘is this the Black City?’

I shook my head, ‘I have no idea.’

‘Fuck.’ He muttered, fingers touching his  _ vallaslin  _ and he looked up at the sky, and frowned, shrugged gestured vaguely around him instead. I concurred, utterly with his statement and confusion. 

‘Um, Hellana?’ Marina queried, still standing at the wrong angle, ‘not that I’m not grateful and all, but how do we get out?’ She looked to the ground, at least the ground where the rest of us were standing, and sort of leap-fell. Landing heavily on the ground. 

I glanced across at her, and then saw the multitude of eyes, I reached my arm out confidently, and waited for the green lightning… and nothing happened. ‘ _ Fenedhis.’  _ I swore, I shook my hand, and did it again and still nothing happened.

Stroud looked alarmed, but peering around from his raised position he pointed over, ‘a rift, that way.’ 

‘Let’s go,’ Merrill called cheerfully, and then she glanced around and I saw her pocket some fade rocks. Before linking her arm through Marina’s, ‘should be fun ‘Rina,’  _ Ghilan’nain guide us, she was practically giddy. _

Dorian was not looking happy at all, but he twisted it into a smile for my benefit, ‘oh goodie.’ He crosses his arms across his chest, ‘it appears you make a rather fine magister after all.’ 

I glared at him, and threw my bow over my shoulder.  _ Grand.  _ ‘Come on.’ I grumbled, heading in the direction that Stroud has pointed out. 


	111. The Moons

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lavellan and the gang make their first steps in the fade, and it’s some freaky stuff!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW - injury (kinda)
> 
> Quick note - the chapter lengths are also going to be wonky throughout the whole of the here lies the Abyss bit, because I wanted to divide them up by theme. So apologies in advance. Some will be shorter than usual and some will be longer! - Hezjena xx

There was a sort of path cut through the fade, a kind of valley between dark glassily black sides. The seems as though it was made of obsidian, although obsidian didn’t get bored and melt every so often and reform into new shapes.

We had not made much progress, Blackwall had slumped back to the ground after only a few steps, the arrow wound he had taken in his leg had opened back again. Despite his earlier magical medical attention, it had not been anywhere near enough. He needed rest, not a trek through the fade.

Merrill rushed over, the closest thing our party had to a healer, she dropped to her knees beside him. ‘When did it get this bad?’

‘Falling,’ he grunted. Biting down hard, as she channeling an ugly mustard yellow tendril of healing magic to knit his skin back together.

She pushed back, a grimace drawn across her features, and her large eyes looked worried. ‘It won’t stay shut,’ she pulled a knife from somewhere and ripped a strip of bandage from the bottom of her _shem-_ sized tunic. She bound Blackwall’s leg tightly, and when she was finished she touched his arm softly. ‘It is the best I can do.’ Her eyes sorrowful.

He gritted his teeth and tried to drag himself to his feet. It took four attempts, in the end Marina helped.  

‘This is nothing like last time we were in the fade,’ Marin said conversationally to Merrill, across Blackwall who was held up between them.

Merrill flushed a dark ruby, and looked apologetic. Marina laughed, and shrugged, ‘do try not to betray me to demons this time.’

Merrill nodded, still with Blackwall’s arm around her shoulder for support. ‘So this place is dangerous?’ He questioned in such a way that made it abundantly clear he both knew and didn’t like the answer.

‘The Beyond, the fade, birthplace of demons and spirits alike. But if that is the Black City,’ she paused, giving Sil and me a pointed look, ‘might bemore dangerous things are on the prowl.’

I felt the shiver run up my spine, and I ducked pulling my knife free from my boot. Half expecting to hear maniacal laughter, I spun, ensuring we were still alone.

It was an odd story that Merrill was referring to, one that had been passed down in scraps, the one which named the Golden City as Arlathan. The city the site of the prison that held our gods, and Fen’Harel as the perpetually hungry jailor that prowled, and laughed and devoured souls that dared come too close.

If this had been the Waking world I might have pointed out that that nearly every notable location across Thedas had been called Arlathan, at one time or another. I might have pointed out that the stories also tell us that the gods fled Arlathan, and I couldn’t see them coming back just to get trapped. I might even have noted the striking Andrastian influences of the way certain segments were almost directly copied from the Chant of Light. But we were not in the Waking world anymore and I wasn’t about to take my chances. The fade was a dream world, Solas had told me, a place where memories gathered. Time and place were illusions here.

Sometimes darted across the path in front of us, a shadow moving too quickly to see. With my dagger drawn, I stalked slowly towards it.

I passed Dorian, Cole and Cassandra, ‘the first time I was in the fade, it was nothing good like this. Some castle draped in gold and red silks, I had a lovely chat with a demon over some grapes, before it tried to possess me of course.’ Dorian was saying to Cassandra, who held up a hand to silence him. So the only thing that could be heard was the sounds of an insistent dripping to our left. I crouched low besides a puddle as Cassandra indicated to follow me.

Cassandra settled by my left her sword drawn, the shadow darted across our path again, and Cassandra jumped, and tried to hide that she had. ‘What is that?’ She exclaimed, trying to keep her voice from shaking, ’demon?’

‘Sort of,’ Merrill piped up, ‘an aspect of a fear demon, and a very strong one at that.’

Cole darted closer to Cassandra, almost on top of her and then her sprinted around to Blackwall and then twisted on the spot as though he couldn’t work out where to go next, he wrung his hands through his hair, his wide brimmed hat dropping to the ground, discarded. ‘Wrong, wrong, wrought and rung.’

‘Right,’ Sil said, his knuckles tight around the bow he had in his hands, he drew up besides me, aimed towards the shadow in our path. ‘That doesn’t sound good.’

‘It will make itself into a thing that your fear, but remember that it isn’t real.’ Merrill added, her staff ready.

Emerald wards shimmered over my skin, and the shadow stepped into view. Sil hissed across from me, and Blackwall cursed loudly.

The creature chewed slowly, it’s nose twitching with every bite. It watched me with tiny black beady eyes, set in a cruel face of pristine white fur.

‘Spiders, everyone’s a little afraid of spiders,’ Marina announced, the shake in her voice barely perceptible.

I took a breath, and replaced my dagger. I did not want to get close to this thing, I pulled my bow out instead. ‘Yes, spiders,’ I lied, staring down at my own fear.

‘We’re going to have to kill them?’ Sil asked his voice raising in pitch as he turned to me in horror.

I nodded, dimly. No one moved to strike it down, they were all waiting for me. And I daren’t.

‘Remember, they are not real.’ Merrill said again, more firmly this time.

‘That isn’t a spider,’ Dorian grunted, through gritted teeth. He pushed a hand through his hair.

At the same time, Sil cursed, ‘cremators’ are going to burn us all.’ _It would be Andruil’s right to judge and damn us for this, I didn’t have it in me to hope she’d be understanding._

I wanted to glance at him, but I didn’t dare take my eyes of the tiny white rabbit in front of me.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter name is a reference to Sil’s card reading in chapter 107 :D


	112. The Hierophant

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In the fade, Lavellan and the gang meet Divine Justinia. Is she really the divine? And can she be trusted? She offers Lavellan her memories.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW - animal death (kinda)

My bow arm trembled as I pulled my arrow back, and lined it up against the white rabbit in front of me. I held there, stupidly waiting, until my hand shook and there would have been no way I could have made the shoot even if I wanted to. 

But then the rabbit lunged, bearing stained yellow teeth, which were too long for its mouth, and running directly at Cole. He jumped away from it, pulling his double daggers out and swiping at the air in front of it, ‘wrong, wrong,’ he hissed with every stroke as it kept coming towards him.

It was Sil, who moved the quickest. The twang of his bow echoed through the air and struck the rabbit through the neck. The rabbit fell into a fade puddle, the ripples radiating out around it and lapping back. The water acting like acid dissolving the rabbit into nothing.

‘Andruil enaste,’ Sil spoke, his tone grim. He glanced to me. His face was tight, the  _ vallaslin  _ that covered his eyes drawn taught across his face. I understood, of course I did. It was why my hand had faltered,  _ white hares were sacred to Andruil, to kill one was open yourself up to her wrath _ . Our fear was not the rabbit itself, but the consequences it brought. 

Cole lent over it, I could see Cole’s reflection upside down in the beady black eyes of the rabbit. And his face was stricken, ‘it wanted to hurt us, I don’t know why it wanted to hurt us.’ His hands waved into the air in short panicky gestures. 

Dorian moved over to him, a hand on his shoulder, bending slightly to meet his eye level, ‘hey, hey, breathe.’ His voice was calm, and I recognised it. He’d used the same tone of voice with me at Redcliffe. I wondered how often Dorian had found himself in situations throughout his life that were so utterly out of his control. 

‘We’ll get you home soon Cole,’ I promised, in a voice that sounded far more confident that I felt. 

Cole looked over to me, his eyes were wet and a moment later he was furiously rubbing his face with the back of his sleeve, ‘it should be like home, but-’ he twisted staring at the broken little skeletal thing on the ground, ‘it isn’t like me.’ 

‘No,’ Dorian said softly, ‘it is nothing like you.’ 

I glanced at Sil, the golden thread glinted slightly in a light source that wasn’t there. He met my eyes with a grim determination.  _ It wasn’t like us either.  _

‘Hellana!’ Merrill called after half a hundred heartbeats, and I darted across the faded landscape to her. She stood, her hand hovering over a broken gold-gilded mirror. Her large eyes, green and wide. Eyelashes casting unnaturally long shadows across her cheekbones. 

‘A mirror?’ I asked as I skipped a step over the last puddle to reach her. I realised from her expression it was not just a normal mirror. ‘An eluvian?’ I corrected. 

She nodded, and her hand got a little too close. For a horrific moment, her whole body flushed with a blinding white light, and the next heartbeat everything was as it was before. 

Marina sprinted to her, her arms around the smaller woman’s shoulders, dragging her away. Her breath coming out in short uneven gasps. 

The elf looked dazed, but otherwise seemed for the moment unharmed. She blinked and looked up, ‘don’t worry ‘Rina, I feel-’ she stumbled forward and put both hands to her head. She shook her head fiercely, ‘-fine.’ She finished with a tight smile. 

‘Don’t touch,’ I began, and spun around to called to the group, ‘actually, no one touch anything. No exceptions.’ 

_ ‘It _ brings them here, things that inspire fear,’ Cole said softly. He’d creeped up behind me.

Though it seemed that they had all followed us. Dorian tapped the mirror firmly with the end of his staff, which spluttered out light blue sparks. ‘The mirror is giving out an odd energy, almost like-’ The broken glass crackled and cracked. The whole thing shattered sending splinters of glass outwards with surprising force. I barely had the time to cover my face with my arms and duck, before explosive shards scattered across the area.  

A moment later when I was sure that none of us had lost an eye, I stood slowly, giving Dorian my best glare. He glanced over looking sheepish, a nervous hand fiddling across the grip of his staff.

‘No-one-touch-anything,’ I repeated and then sighed. ‘Who is bringing them here Cole?’ I asked but didn’t get anything more than a whimper in response. Cole was terrified and I didn’t want to push him. 

‘Inquisitor?’ Cassandra called from up a small flight of dark obsidian stairs, that looked as though they’d been carved into the rock themselves.  _ What now?  _ I took a first apprehensive step, expecting the obsidian to chose that exact moment to melt away and leave me flat on my back. But, all thoughts of the geology of the fade left my thoughts when five steps up I came face to face with a woman I vaguely recognised from the plates being sold by a merchant in Val Royeaux. She was wearing a hat that would have put Mother Giselle’s to shame.

‘Divine Justina? Most Holy?’ Cassandra stammered out, her face the perfect picture of shock. Her sword dropped, the blade hit the ground with a clatter that Cassandra didn’t notice at all. 

The woman with the impossibly tall hat, nodded to Cassandra. Her hands crossed, clasping together, in front of her elaborate Chantry robes, serene and patient. As the rest of our part reached the stairs, she spoke again. Her accent was thick and I found it difficult to understand her, ‘I greet you Warden.’ 

She nodded at Stroud who had Blackwall’s arm slung around his waist, the one keeping the other upright. He helped Blackwall to sit as he wracked his hands through his hair, ‘by the Maker, it can't be,’ he breathed. 

The thing wearing the shape of the Divine smiled at him gently, as though she was trying to soothe his worries. 

I tilted my head to Cassandra, ‘it’s her?’ 

The ex-Seeker was openly gawking, ‘the Chant of Light teaches us that souls pass through the Fade, it may be.’ 

‘Or something wearing her skin,’ Marina interrupted, her voice harsh. ‘It’s a spirit.’

‘Champion and you Cho-’ she tilted her head to Merrill, her hat defying the limited gravity of the fade. ‘No, you are not yet, are you?’ 

Merrill blinked and glanced up at Marina, ‘I do not understand.’ 

‘Neither do I,’ Marina practically snarled, her posture alert and defensive, protecting Merrill with her every breath. ‘It’s a demon,’ she hissed, correcting her earlier statement. 

The Divine seemed utterly uncowed by Marina, and gave her a little smile that reminded me utterly of Leliana, the look of a woman who had her prey within her sights. ‘You think my survival impossible, and yet here you stand yourselves.’   
Dorian clapped his hands together as he saw her, ‘the White Divine?’ he queried, and then muttered under his breath, ‘are you here to tell us that we are dead?’ He fiddled with a buckle on his sleeve.

‘No,’ she laughed, ‘not yet,’ she said, and Dorian looked up, frowning. ‘And proving my existence will take time that we do not have.’ 

I tried not to smirk, but then it was my turn, the woman turned her soft lavender eyes to me, ‘Inquisitor, I am here to help you.’

I blinked at her,  _ help me?  _ ‘The Divine died before I became Inquisitor.’ My words slow and careful, if it was a demon - I did not want to provoke it. 

She nodded to me, deeply, so deeply I was sure, finally she would lose her hat. ‘That is true, but there are memories of your actions that now reside here in the fade. The ripples find us even here.’ She paused her eyes racking over me with interest, tasing her words before she spoke. ‘Memories are why you are here now, memories that I have collected, memories of yours that were taken from you.’

‘My memories were taken from me?’ I repeated back to her, fruitlessly trying to remember what I had forgotten. 

Cassandra arrived to my rescue, ‘you cannot recall the events the day the Temple was destroyed.’

I nodded to her,  _ only a brief flash of a golden woman guiding my path. Cassandra had named the woman Andraste, but I was sure it was not. Why would she help me?  _

Divine Justinia reached out to me, a kindly gesture perhaps, but I pulled back sharply, my eyes narrowed in distrust. I still wasn’t convinced that she was not a demon. ‘Little one, I am the one that helped you escape the fade.’ She said as sweet as seawater, crashing the knowledge over us like a tsunami. 

I had nothing to say in response. So instead I ignored her revelation. ‘Told you it wasn’t Andraste,’ I muttered to Cassandra, which came out more coldly than I meant it too. 

Cassandra didn’t seem to notice, instead she was still gazing, star-struck at the Divine, ‘you saved her?’ she queried.

Sil elbowed me, ‘but it wasn’t one of ours either.’ he was shaking, I glanced over, he was silently laughing at me.  _ Dread wolf take him _ . 

I crossed my arms over my chest, feeling a bubble of shame rise up from my stomach. I rubbed at my eyes.  _ My head hurt, this was far too much to deal with, and I’d really like to get back to the Waking- _

‘Would you like your memories back?’ 

‘What?’ My eyes flashed open and I stared at her. 

‘They were taken by a demon named Nightmare, I retrieved them for you.’ She produced a chalice from the air, which overflowed with a shimmering liquid fog. ‘You could say you simply need to drink, I’ve heard you’re good at that.’ 

I glared daggers at her.

‘Nightmare?’ Sil asked, cutting through the tension. 

She glanced at him, her eyes taking in his  _ vallaslin _ , the golden thread braided in his hair and at the quiver slung over his shoulder. ‘Yes, Hunter.’ Her voice was confidence, despite how much I was sure that it must have been a guess. ‘Nightmare is an ancient demon that feasts upon fear, it grows fat on the terror that it harvests. It has allied itself with Corypheus,’ she extended the chalice towards me, her eyes fixed upon the glowing green of my hand, ‘although it used to serve another.’ 

A shiver ran through me, as though someone had cut down the trees of all of my ancestors.  _ Fuck. _

‘Drink this, and go quickly. It will know that you are here soon.’ 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter name taken from Sil’s tarot card reading from chapter 107.


	113. Seven of Cups

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lavellan is given the opportunity to regain her memories. Will she take it and what will she learn?

As Divine Justinia predicted, we did not have much time. While I was staring down at the chalice that she had given me, allegedly full of my memories, an army of white hares appeared. There must have been fifty or so, and they encircled us.  

‘Great, more spiders.’ Marina huffed from my side, swinging her staff and picking four off in her first movement, and another three with her next. It was only because she was so easily picking off the little monsters off that I didn’t immediately drop the chalice and join in the defence.

‘You must drink!’ Justinia hurried, her serene mask cracking to reveal a panicked foundation. Her arms mimicked raising the cup to her lips, as though I was so stupid to not understand how the act was to be done. _I simply didn’t trust her_.

‘It is poison, Inquisitor, poison to rot your soul and twist your bones.’ A cruel deep voice sounded from no direction in particular.

The Divine turned her head upwards, towards the direction of the rift. ‘Nightmare.’ She said grimly.

Cassandra rushed over to me, ‘Most Holy would not hurt you.’ She gasped before slashing her sword effortlessly through two of the little fear creatures taking the form of white rabbits. _Nothing here was as it seemed._

I stared at Cassandra, wasn’t she supposed to be a well trained super Templar? But just the semblance of a sacred hat was enough to gain her trust.

But then again, I found trusted the being that claimed to be the Divine far more than the voice of Nightmare in the sky. The Nightmare that used to owe its allegiance to another.

 _But there was no proof._ I tried to tell myself I wasn’t a fool, I tried to throw the chalice to the ground, but my hands didn’t work. The chalice was large, decorated with seven chevrons similar to the pattern that I had used for Merrill’s binding cord. I frowned at it and I tried to convince myself that drinking mysterious liquids handed to you by strange Chantry women was a sure fire way to end up dead or worse. But the drifting white fog seemed to _recognise me?_ I tried to sniff it, _it was a mistake._ The fog lunged for me as an owl strikes for a mouse.

 

 _I had an odd sense of deja vu, as I crept through the white marble hallways. I walked slowly, despite the bounding in my veins, I was small and unassuming, a servant to anyone to didn’t look closely enough. Trying to avoid the Templars and Mages alike. They had come to some sort of peace a cease fire had been declared and it seemed that the war was over. I needed to get out of this place and get home. Or at least write back to my clan and inform them. I worried the woven bracelet around my wrist, mission done,_ I would be home soon _._ Gods, I missed my clan. But, if things were stabilising we could finally try to move from the Free Marches.

 _A woman’s cry for help cut through my thoughts. The sounds of it echoed down the abandoned halls,_ Mother Mythal guide me _! I prayed, although regretted it as I flicked my eyes to the vaulted ceiling. Useless. I chastised myself. I was unmistakably on my own_.

_With an unsteady breath I made the choice to investigate. A heartbeat later had me running, the muffled beats of my footfalls echoing lightly. I barrelled through a double wooden door, and drew up short._

_The Divine was floating six inches off the ground. She glanced towards me with grey eyes that were oddly claim. She was held aloft by four mages with red lyrium misted eyes wearing the robes of the Grey Wardens._

_In front of her stood a red shard encrusted monster. From the future-present, I knew the figure to be Corypheus, and the shards to be red lyrium, but I had forgotten the utter terror at seeing him for the first time._

_Achingly slowly, he twisted his head towards me. I stumbled backwards, but the doors had closed behind me of their own accord._

_Corypheus spoke, but the speech was muffled, as though he was speaking from the bottom of a lake. He turned from me with a sneer as one of the mage Wardens began advancing on me. I had my old bow, the one Deshanna had gifted me, my last protection, but it wouldn’t come free from my shoulder. It was caught on something, I finally pulled it free, and it skidded across the floor._

_Without a weapon, I retreated from the mage. I ducked as the mages staff swing out to hit me, crawling against the wall. I twisted in time to see Corypheus holding out the orb that I’d seen in my dreams. The one, despite everything I had remembered._

_It was much smaller than I’d remembered. How could such a small thing have caused so much trouble?_

_The Divine kicked out at him, and Corypheus lost his grip and the orb flew in a graceful arch across the room, falling within reach. With my left hand, I reached out to grab it and as my fingertips touched the orb - the world exploded in green tinted pain._

 

Someone was holding my hair back as I wretched the empty contents of my stomach up. My throat burned and my chest protested, I couldn’t see for tears in my eyes and I felt like my head had been smashed repeatedly into a brick wall.

‘Inquisitor?’ Cassandra’s voice questioned, she crouched in front of me passing her water skin into my hands. I took it with a grateful nod. The water didn’t taste right, too minerally, each gulp left a trail of limestone down my gullet.

‘I remember,’ I croaked. ‘The Wardens, they were helping Corypheus.’

‘No,’ Stroud erupted, ‘that isn’t possible.’

I gave him a dark look, and nodded weakly, ‘the demon mages.’

‘The Wardens helped to kill the Divine.’ Cassandra, looking pale.

Marina was bloodstained, she wiped her lip with the back of her hand, ‘of course the Wardens are behind this.’

‘No,’ I said quickly, my words scraping against my raw throat, ‘the Wardens are equally victims of Corypheus.’

‘But that would mean-‘ Stroud began, he paused sitting heavily next to Blackwall. Both men looked utterly stricken, and exchanged a glance.


	114. Nine of Swords

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lavellan and the gang trek through the fade, and Nightmare tries to scare them, with some it is more successfully than others. And is there something odd about the Divine?

The voice of Nightmare, laughing cruel and mocking spoke then, ‘Warden Stroud, how must it feel to devote your whole life to the wardens, only to watch them fail?’

Stroud glanced upwards, his teeth clamped together audibly. He replied in a snarl, stinging and sarcastic.

But I turned, distracted, to see if I could see the Divine. _She had saved me, the Chantry woman had given her life for me. Not Andraste, the Divine._ My head spun from the movement and the hundred more questions I had battering through my brain, but she was gone.

Instead I beyond where she had been were the piled bodies of the invading white hares, I shuddered to look at them all, the instinctive fear cooling like a cobra in the pit of my stomach. Nightmare laughed again,

‘Little Inquisitor, so many sacrifices, you’ll be next on the pyre.’

‘Try me,’ I snapped venomously, I didn’t have the energy to fight with an ancient demon. Then coughed so hard that I had to bend in half to catch my breath again.

‘Are you alright?’ Sil asked.

‘Not the worst thing I’ve ever drink.’ I tried to smile, ‘remember that _shem-_ piss Vaelentine brought back a few years back?’

My cousin laughed, ‘she gave it as an offering to Falon’Din, tipped it on the ground and it killed the wild grass.’ He nodded, mockingly serious and finished the story for me.

My ragged giggles were agony against my throat, but it felt good to feel something that wasn’t mindless terror.

‘Silvalerin, Silvalerin, what a prestigious name, how will you ever live up to it? First you’d need to step out from under her shadow,’ Nightmare mocked my cousin, referencing the Emerald Knight he was named for, with the name that he never used.

True to form, Sil glanced around, one hand drawn above his eyes as though he was searching for something, ‘anyone here by that name?’ Then he shook his head furious, ‘thought not,’ he drawled, sounding utterly bored by Nightmare’s attempt.

Cassandra snorted a little noise of disapproval. ‘If you’re feeling better, Inquisitor, we should get moving.’

Before I could reply, Nightmare did. ‘Herald of nothing, and no one, your Inquisitor is a fraud, Cassandra.’ The voice laughed, cruel and mocking. ‘so where does that leave your faith?’

She frowned, shook her head and helped me to my feet. ‘Die in the void.’ She hissed at the disembodied voice. She softened a little when she glanced back at me, ‘we should get moving.’ She repeated.

‘It’s found them in our heads, frightening, finding the fears-‘ Cole began.

‘Ahh, Cole,’ the demon was friendly, amicable, ‘are you frightened of me? Do you want me to help you forget?’

The boy crouched, his arms wrapping around his head as though it would protect him, ‘no,’ he wailed.

It was Dorian who got there first, whispering reassurances that I couldn’t hear. He looked up when Nightmare’s voice said something that I couldn’t understand. Foreign words that I barely recognised as Tevene. Dorian frowned, ‘well that was just rude.’ He sniffed, before turning his attention back solely on Cole. Within a few heartbeats Cole was nodding reassured as we were ready to make a move.

 

We, the walking wounded, made painfully slow progress through the twisting, ever changing landscape of the fade. Boulders, shimmered in and out of existence, advancing our progress and confusing all my sense of direction.

‘They were getting so close,’ Nightmare taunted after we took a right hand turning, he voice shook a little in mocking fear, then twisted it into a child-like singsong voice that danced across the rocks, ‘the Grey Wardens are coming to get me!’

Blackwall hissed, and pulled away from Stroud's support to lean heavily against a rock. I could see the bandages around his leg were crimson with blood and his face was deathly pale. We needed to get him soon soon or he may bleed out right here.

‘Nothing so terrifying as the Grey Wardens, but then Blackwall, you really are nothing like a Grey Warden.’ Nightmare continued, his voice smug as a mabari with a bone.

Blackwall didn’t even have the energy to acknowledge the demon.

Merrill stumbled towards him, her own feet barely placing one foot steadily in front of the other, she still hadn’t properly recovered from touching the eluvian, and I had no idea what it had done to her. She bent to wrap more tendrils of mustard coloured healing magic before Blackwall stopped her. ‘Save your strength.’

‘My mana is-‘ she began.

But Marina spoke over her, ‘your mana is in your blood, he’s right, you can’t do this.’

Merrill’s bottom lip poked out as she realised she was helpless.

‘Your magic will never match your ambition, Merrill, you’ll bleed yourself dry before you will achieve anything of note.’ Nightmare supplied at that exact moment, and I watched its words cut through Merrill as if it had stabbed her.

Merrill’s big eyes glazed for moment and I thought she might cry. ‘I know,’ she said simply, ‘but I can try.’

Marina reached it for her, wrapping the smaller woman with her arms, ‘I’m going to kill this thing.’ She swore, pressing her forehead against Merrill’s to seal the promise.

The Nightmare choked out a laugh, ‘do you think anything you ever do matters Hawke? You couldn’t save your city, how do you expect to strike down a god? Merrill will die, just like your family.’

Marina’s grip tightened on Merrill, ‘I’m going to _enjoy_ killing this thing.’ She corrected breaking from Merrill to stab her staff into the air threateningly. A moment later, with her free hand helped Blackwall back to his feet.

 

The ground under our feet began to change as we began to head uphill, the tight cut valleys of the fade, spread out into a single seemingly unending plain. Ankle high water, stingingly cold, pooled in puddles across the flat terrain. And there seemed to be a vast lake to our right. In the distance, I could just see the edge of a cliff, on top of which was the faint green wisps that marked the fade rift. ‘And there is our way home,’ I said, rubbing at my eyes.

It was impossible to tell how long we’d been walking through the fade, I didn’t want to think about the battle that may still be raging in the Waking world. Our supplies were running dangerously low, our healing supplies were long gone, we had a single vial of lyrium left which Marina was hoarding and the food situation was particularly died. On top of that I felt like I had walked face first into a static cage.

It was at that moment that the Divine chose to reappear to us, her lavender eyes flashing in the dimly lit air. ‘Nightmare’s lair is up ahead, it will not let you go easily-’

Nightmare laughed, its voice spilling across the wide open space, seeming to come from every direction at the same time. ‘You traded everything for an eternity with me, was it worth it?’

The Divine closed her eyes, and then flicked a gesture into the air. It was old, a warding gesture, heart wrenchingly familiar, one that Deshanna had taught me when I was tiny to keep bad dreams at bay. I wondered how she could have learned it. How could the Divine know a Dalish gesture, even more to use it with such ease. But then I realised, it was survival, _Nightmare used to owe allegiance to another._ The Divine opened her eyes again, a soft expression across her ancient face. Her lavender eyes searched out Cassandra, ‘I am never alone here,’ she said sweetly, as though all her sacrifices were worth it. _Andrastrians loved a good martyr._

The Seeker nodded, ‘the Maker goes with you.’

‘Why did you do it?’ I asked, the words coming out harsher that I meant them to.

The Divine studied me, and her eyes drifted down to my marked hand. ‘At the time, I only knew that you could be saved but I could not.’ She paused drawing a deep breath, steadily herself and forming her words before she spoke. ‘Though perhaps it was a greater power that guided me, for I know now that your mark is the key. It is as a needle that pulls the thread, it is the needle that passes through the Veil, and you are the thread.’ She drew back a little, her hands coming together to rest in front of her.

‘Speak plainly,’ Blackwall groaned, he looked almost green. Discoloured and sick from breathing in the air.

She rested her eyes upon the Warden, a single raised eyebrow in response to his interruption, ‘the mark is the key that locks or unlocks a door to the fade.’

 _It is the white hare, two things at the same time_. 

’It is the only thing that has allowed you to walk physically in the fade and survive,’ she glanced around at my companions, her eyes lingering on the wound in Blackwall’s calf, ‘but it is not without a terrible cost.’

Cassandra stepped up, ‘Most Holy, if I had been there, I could have-‘

‘You would have died with me, Cassandra, and now, we must protect the one who holds the mark.’ She turned back to me, ‘by taking it from Corypheus, he must find another way to the Black City.’ She glanced up and slightly to the left as though marking the location and then back to me. ‘Protect the Mark, Inquisitor, it is a part of you now, only your death can remove it.’

I tried to stand straighter, to acknowledge the solemn duty thrust upon me unwillingly, _an unwilling sacrifice to protect the world from this mad red lyrium encrusted monster._ I felt Sil’s eyes on my back _._ ‘I will.’ I swore to the Divine.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Notes on Nightmare, I really thought he would target his fears, targeting the weakest together to try to break the spirit of the group in one foul swoop. I hope that comes across.
> 
> And now I just need to work out who to leave in the fade, I’ve been flip flopping on this choice for months - ahhhh!
> 
> The name of the chapter comes from Sil’s reading from chapter 76 :D


	115. In Death, Sacrifice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The battle to get out of the fade rages, will Lavellan survive and will anyone get left behind?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahhhh over 3000 hits! Thank you my lovely, wonderful readers <3

Nightmare's Lair was a disgusting sort of place, fade-stained poison waters dripped down into stale pools. I didn’t know if the demon had always lived in such squalid conditions or if it had constructed such a space. The air was heavier here, and so humid a blade through the air could have cut it. Which made it difficult to breath as we battled ever more white-furred Fearlings. My motions felt sluggish, as though I’d just woke up from a terrible dream, and part of my body was still asleep, I couldn’t shake the fatigue from my limbs. It looked like the others were feeling it too, as though the fade itself resisted our presence and was trying to force us out. I paused for a moment retaking arrows from the fallen Fearlings, they looked less and less like hares, perhaps Nightmare was getting tired too.

Beyond an archway, I spied the fade rift. _We were so close_ . I was filled with desperate hope. _But we’d have to cut through an army to get there._ For a heart-spotting moment I considered if Nightmare would ever show its face or if it was simply exhaust us to death with wave upon wave of crinkle-nosed creatures.

The demon had returned to its burrow, twelve eyes blinked in sequence at our weary company. The demon’s ragged sandpaper skin scratched against an open archway as it joined the battle, it blocked the rift from view.

My first arrow skidded across its flesh like a pebble across a still lake, _fenedhis._

‘We need to get past it!’ Cassandra called, the demon snatched out with a slim spindle-like arm to catch Cassandra, she battered it back with the top edge of her shield and swung her sword at the offending limb. With a shriek of outrage, Nightmare’s arm hit the ground with a heavy thump.

From behind it, Merrill caused the ground to erupt into shards, causing two Fearlings to be dashed against the newly formed rocks. She swore under her breath, ‘didn’t expect to be able to do that.’

Nightmare laughed, a nerve chilling cackle and turned her on. A new spike grew in the place where Cassandra had decapitated the last one. As it’s attention was distracted Sil reached me, and pointed towards the arch with the point of the arrow in his hand. His meaning was clear. _We could sneak by it._

‘Go,’ I whispered, he nodded.

Expression grim, he reached behind him and handed over all by one of his arrows, ‘good hunting, _Elgar’nan grant your victory_ ,’ he pulled me quickly into a hug and touched our foreheads together, stinging heat radiated out across my face as he escaped. With a last look at the rift, a flash of golden thread glinted, and he was gone. I thrust his arrows into my quiver. _Thank the gods, Sil was safe, or walking into the centre of a battle with a single arrow. Shit. Do not think it,_ I chastised myself _, Sil was safe._ I repeated to myself until I believed it.

I twisted round to see Dorian casting barriers over himself and Cole, I pointed towards the rift. And darted over to Cassandra and Merrill helping them with their attack that was distracting it. As I rained down three arrows in rapid fire, striking Nightmare squarely in the neck, I saw Dorian half dragging the still terrified Cole back to the Waking world.

The only problem was that with less fighters, Nightmare had became a more formidable opponent. I tried to signal to Stroud to get Blackwall out, but the Nightmare has positioned itself between us and my efforts were rendered to nothing. The Nightmare burst back suddenly, cutting the path to the fade rift off again, ‘trying to sneak away are we, thief?’

‘Let them go, _Era’mis_.’ The shape of Divine Justinia snarled suddenly appearing from behind Stroud and Blackwall. Blackwall jumped back in shock, landed poorly on his weak leg and ended up in a heap on the floor.

Divine Justinia took on a role as protector, shielding the Wardens. Whatever serenity she previously had, was now gone. She was more clearly now a creature of the fade, than the Chanty woman that she had been. She stepped forward up to the Nightmare, calm and as deadly as Cassandra and Leliana combined. With each step she shed her human form. So that a glowing golden shape rose up to meet the demon, the only thing that remained of the woman was the pale shimmering lavender eyes, and the outline of the ridiculous hat.

‘Go!’ I shouted, pushing Merrill and Cassandra forward. Merrill stumbled and Cassandra dragged her to her feet.

‘Hawke!’ Stroud called, and I twisted to see him struggling to get Blackwall back to his feet.

Marina sprinted over to him and I saw Merrill step forward to get to her, ‘no, I’ll go,’ I hissed as I was closest.

Merrill looked uncertain for a heartbeat, as she was unwilling to leave Marina behind. But she nodded.

‘Look after her,’ I said to Cassandra. Trusting the woman to get Merrill out safely.

‘I will-’ Cassandra affirmed,

‘Of course-’ Merrill promised in the same moment. They two looked at each other with a weary glance, before retreating back to the Waking world.

As I reached Blackwall, I had to calm my stomach, I should have brought Merrill with us, his calf was in terrible shape. I knelt by him, tearing a new bandage and wrapping it tightly around his leg. Around us the golden spirit and the fear demon fought.

Blackwall grunted as I wrapped a new dressing over the top of the bloodstained one, his teeth clenched together through the pain. Once it was done, he used Marina and Stroud as a crutch he was thankfully able to stand again.

With a roar of rage, the demon stuck at the Divine, cutting a tear through the hat, to leave her looking as though she wore horns. She was tossed to the ground with a soft sound, the golden light faded just a little. We were out of allies.

Nightmare, refocused on blocking us from our path skidded out in front of us.

‘Go,’ Marina shouted, pulling away from Blackwall. ‘I will clear a path.’ Her staff was ready in front of her, and I watched her quickly flicking movements as she raked her nails against her flesh bringing forth a new supply of her blood-mana. Her sure and firm movements of her staff dancing through the air, would give us the time to escape.

But, our party did not move forward. Stroud was stopped unwilling to leave her, the rift was close enough to taste. ‘No,’ he said firmly, he couldn’t let Marina do this thing. ‘The Warden’s started this, let us finish this.’

I stared at him, wasting a precious heartbeat as I realised he was asking me to decide. We wouldn’t have another heartbeat to waste, I needed to make up my mind.

Marina twisted her head around, as though she couldn’t understand why we hadn’t gone yet. ‘Corypheus is my mistake,’ she countered.

‘Corypheus isn’t here,’ I heard someone else distantly say my words, using my voice. ‘The Warden’s started this, the Warden stays,’ I repeated. Giving Stroud my decision.

I grabbed Marina by the wrist, my hand wrapping around the red binding bracelet. _Save her for Merrill’s sake, if nothing else._

As I pulled Marina towards the fade rift, Blackwall exchanged a final word with Stroud.

‘In death, sacrifice.’

 

In a blur of motions that my muscles remembered, but I did not consciously command, the fade rift was closed. We stood back in the Waking world. In the centre of Adamant, Grey Warden’s bedraggled and waiting surrounded us like corvids waiting to strip the bones of another prey’s kill. I felt almost dizzy at being back in the real world, I felt a lightness in my bones and I was sure if I took my heavy armour off I would float away. This world was not trying to push us out of it.

I had to get my bearings, helmeted Warden was approaching. The winged helm covered his face like an Orlesian mask. _The battle wasn’t over._ I realised with a horrible certainty, I couldn’t see our companions. I reached behind me, _my quiver was empty._

Then the Warden dropped to his knees before me _,_ and offered his sword in surrender. ‘Merci le créateur! L'archidémon est parti. L'enchantement sur les mages a été brisé, la Forteresse Adamant est à vous Héraut.’

I fought to control my breath, fought to remain standing, but my heartbeat was hammering so hard in my ears I couldn’t understand him. I stared down at the man, utterly uncomprehending. It took my far too long to realise that he was speaking Orlesian.

‘He said, the spell upon the mages has been broken,’ Stroud began to translate for me.

I turned, numb. How could Stroud be here- I saw Marina’s face drop.

_No, no, no, we had left Blackwall._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translations
> 
> Era’mis, lit. Dream Knife, which is the best I could do at an Elvhen translation for Nightmare’s name. :D
> 
> Merci le créateur! L'archidémon est parti. L'enchantement sur les mages a été brisé, Adamant est à vous Héraut - Thank the Maker, the archdemon is gone and the spell on the mages is broken. Adamant is yours Herald.  
> [Again, my schoolgirl French is probably not completely correct, so if I've made any mistakes, please let me know!! <3 ]


	116. Gordon Blackwall

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The aftermath of the events in the fade, Lavellan finds herself with a few letters to read.  
> [Make sure that you've read the last chapter before you read this one - Hezjena]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I realised after posting the last chapter, that Sera would never get her better hugs, and now I feel terrible.

The clouds looked like pebbles strewn across an impossibly vast beach. The golden sun streamed down through a thick canopy, giving the forest floor a shadowy blue tint. I sat with my back against a great tree, one that was large enough that probably would have been a vallasdahlen. I had checked for a marker, but found none, a tree with no marker, a life with no record of it.

I sucked in a painful breath, Blackwall, gone without even a body to burn. I closed my eyes, and inclined my head towards the sky, would he even want my prayers?

A green clad Inquisition agent interrupted my thoughts. ‘Forgive me Herald, I know you wished to be alone,’ she said with a thick Orlesian accent. She was a messenger, her face was taut as she gave me an awkward bow and fished inside her satchel. She pulled out a small selection of letters. She placed them carefully on the emerald grass besides me, and backed away. Leaving me alone once more with my thoughts.

I glared at the little pile of letters, but with a resigned sigh, I picked the first one up.

_Inquisitor,_   
_Forgive me for my swift departure, I am travelling to the stronghold of Wiesshaupt, in the Anderfels._   
_Please pass on my apologises to M. Hawke. And please know that Blackwall died a true Warden.  
Stroud._

I put the letter down with a snarl, and lent my head back against the tree. ‘Coward’, I cursed. Four days previously, Marina had accused him of leaving a subordinate to die in his place, among other more colourful and I hoped less true things. The two had traded insults, until Cassandra had broken them up. When Stroud had packed his belongings, told Marina that her sister’s blood was on her hands and he’d only tried to make things right, and then he’d ridden off. Cassandra had mentioned an hour later that technically as Stroud had stolen an Inquisition horse, I could have him dragged back in chains. Let him go, I’d said, I never want to see that man again. Varric had been right, the villain was beside me all along. The humble Warden, simply doing his duty. And Blackwall unable to run, had paid the price.

I picked up the next letter, and turned the letter over in my hand, it was a simple scroll with a slim faded orange seal. The seal was unbroken which meant that the letter had not come through Leliana, I looked up the question the messenger, but she was gone. Illuminated on the seal was a stylised ‘RJ’. Red Jenny? I had written to Sera first, to tell her about Blackwall, before sending notes to the rest of my advisors, and I’d been dreading her response. I knew the two of them had been close.

Doodled across the top of the page was an arrow, and at the bottom two mice. Some of the ink was smudged.  
_What do you mean he’s gone?_  
 _He can’t just have disappeared._  
 _The Wardens are the good guys._  
 _You need to work on punchlines._  
 _Light up your hand and go get him.  
~~I trusted you.~~  _

I trusted me too, I thought bitterly. I folded the letter in on itself and clutched it hard to my chest. I wordlessly screamed. A real scream would have brought a hundred agents running. I’d never felt so utterly helpless. I had never wanted anyone to die for me. I tucked the note into the pocket on the inside of my jacket and looked down at the remaining letter.

It was less of a letter and more a bundle of documents. It was an official document from Leliana. It was a report of some kind, I rubbed at my eyes.

There was a slip of paper tucked into the first page, I recognised Leliana’s writing.

_Normally, I would never send one of my files. But you need to read this. It’s important._

I sighed, it was already back to business. I flicked open to a random page and the image made me slam the document shut. Tentatively, I opened the page back up. It was a woodcut print. I felt a sob rise in my throat. Perhaps years old, and although the face had changed dramatically throughout the years, I would recognise those eyes anyway. A woodcut of Blackwall’s face.

I closed my eyes, and the memory of his real face flashed behind my closed lids. _I’m so sorry_.

Steadying myself, I looked back at the document and frowned. It was Blackwall, clean shaven and younger, there was no doubt that it was him. Except it was a wanted poster. My fingers traced the faded inscription,

_As-tu vu cet homme?_   
_Ser Thom Rainier.  
Traître à l'Empire, a voulu pour l'assassiner de Lord Vincent Callier et sa famille._

Traître? Traitor. My blood ran cold. I flicked to the next page. It was a scrap of paper that had been folded many times, written in a shaky hand, dated from well before we had left Haven.

_Nightingale,_   
_You were right, the Warden’s do not just get lucky with their swords. What kind of Warden would say that? It’s more complicated than that - isn’t it always? Since you overheard it in the tavern, maybe the drink turned his tongue?_   
_Crown._   
_P.S. Are the code names really necessary?  
P.P.S. It has been a few years, maybe ask ~~Mor~~ Forest Witch._

I put that one down, not sure what to make of it. And pulled out another letter, this time the script was elegant. Written in Orlesian with Leliana’s translation below it.

_My dearest Leliana,_   
_Madam de Fey’s recent salon was quite the talk of Val Royeaux, your fiery Herald has rather caught the attention of the city. And such a company she keeps, a Seeker, a Magister and a Chevalier! Vivienne has decided to join the Inquisition, though why is beyond me, Celene is deeply upset at the loss of her pet mage. It seems like Lady Morrigan will take advantage of the chaos._   
_Yours as always,  
Daphne de Meghanne._

The word chevalier was circled in red ink. I flicked to another, two that matched, both were smudged and difficult to read. As though they had been soaked in rain and left to dry.

At the top of both notes in red ink, was a single word, _intercepted._

_Blackwall, the warden I spoke of in my last letter, is not what he appears. He is not another warden that has resisted the calling, but rather he is not a warden at all. Should I confront him?_   
_I await your response, and do be careful with Clarel.  
Jean-Marc_

_I confronted him anyway, damn it. He was a warden-recruit, but his recruiter was killed before he joined. He seems noble enough, so I find myself trusting him. Poor bastard’s been terrified I’d reveal his identity._   
_Phillipe, please write me back, I haven’t heard from you in a long time and I fear the worst.  
Jean-Marc_

  
I put the notes back into the document, there were another handful like it. Each I assumed would tell me more about the man who was and was not Blackwall. I picked up the note that Stroud had sent me, _please know that Blackwall had died a true Warden. Had he willingly sacrificed himself?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There were a lot of different voices in this chapter, and I really hope that it all makes sense! 
> 
> Translations
> 
> As-tu vu cet homme? - Have you seen this man?  
> Traître à l'Empire, a voulu pour l'assassiner de Lord Vincent Callier et sa famille. - Traitor to the Empire, wanted for the murder of Lord Vincent Callier and his family.


	117. Insomniac

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lavellan returns to Skyhold and someone is there to greet her at the stables.

Insomnia had plagued me the entire way back from Adamant. It wasn’t that I couldn’t sleep, but rather the moment I did Nightmare appeared, mocking me. Whispering my fears and revealing to me the intricate ways in which Blackwall was suffering. Exquisite and endless tortures. Blackwall was alive of course, it bragged to me, for what better plaything for a fear demon than a man terrified of himself? 

I would bolt awake and lie wide-eyed all night. 

Even the blade under my pillow had no effect on keeping the Nightmare at bay. 

When Skyhold finally came into view I was sure I was dreaming. The lights of the fortress shone against the background of the mountains. I passed an agent, and passed along a command, ‘please round up the inner circle, Inquisitor's quarters, half an hour.’ 

The cool dusk air wrapped around me as I made my way through the quiet castle. I could hear Maryden’s voice drifting out from the illuminated tavern as I crossed the stables. 

Staying for just a moment outside of the barn where Blackwall should have been returning to. I didn’t notice the faint footsteps behind me as I lead Torchbearer into the stable. 

Inside the stall, I saw the scratched glyph of Ghilan'nain,  _ Mistress of Travel, bring me back,  _ I had begged and I had received it. I should have begged Ghilan’nain to bring us all home. But at least one of the gods was watching over me, Elgar’nan’s victory was bitter as ash in my mouth, as his golden thread was still wrapped in my hair. If I took it out I would have to make thankful offerings, and I couldn’t find it in my soul to be grateful yet.

_ Light up your hand and go get him,  _ Sera had written me and I had done as Sera had bid me, tried to cross back into the fade half a hundred times, all to no avail.  _ I couldn’t get Blackwall back _ . My hands shook as I tried to tie Torchbearer up.  _ I would have to face her, have to _ -

‘Let me help,’ the sweet voice behind me said softly. 

Painter’s hands took the reigns off me, and I turned to look at him. ‘How did you find me?’ I asked without thinking, Solas is half turned away from me steadily securing my hart. His profile is illuminated and it is only now, barely a pace away from him I let myself miss him. I swallow hard at the sight of the cut lines of his jaw. He is wearing the fur from the dream, from the last time I saw him, which seems like it was years ago. 

He turned to me then, and my heart ached to see him again. ‘When you didn’t return with the rest, I found Dorian and he told me you had gone to your clan.’ 

‘Only to drop Sil off, we need to brief the inner circle,’ I paused and rubbed my eyes trying to brush some of the fatigue from me. ‘I didn’t even get a chance to see Deshanna.’

‘Your Mother is well enough, although she does not like me.’ Solas told me softly. 

I dropped my head against his chest, and felt a laugh bubble up,  _ sweet man,  _ ‘that is the least of our problems.’ I whispered into the thick fur. I pulled back, and wrapped my arms around his neck, dragging him down for an utterly appropriate and chaste kiss. We are out in the open, but there is a sense of urgency underneath. I feel the urgency in the way his fingers curl at my hip, as though he’ll push me up against the wall with my legs twisted around his waist. I feel it in the graze of teeth against my lip, and the desperate breath against my face as he stands straight. Out of reach. ‘You should have been with us.’ I said after a long moment.

He considered, his dark eyes ever searching across my face, ‘how could I have been of service?’ 

I take a breath, he will know soon enough. ‘I walked physically in the fade.’

‘What?’ 

‘The briefing, my love, I don’t know if I can tell the story twice in one night.’ I say, and twine my fingers through his leading him from the stables. I can feel the thousand questions he has under the service like a school of fish just under the surface of the water. He doesn’t ask, and for that I think I love him all the more. 

‘Oh,’ I say as we are halfway up the stairs to the main hall, ‘it wasn’t Andraste, in the end it was Divine Justinia who I saw after the Temple of Sacred Ashes.’

Solas stopped as well, on a step lower than me so for that moment we were the same height. He squeezed my hand reassuringly, but he was lost in thought and I couldn’t blame him. ‘The Divine was able to survive in the fade?’ 

I sighed, ‘no, a spirit wearing her skin, I believe, she helped us escape the Nightmare.’

He blinked at that, and a flicker of concern passed across his features. ‘The Nightmare?’ He repeated, as though everything else had made perfect sense.

‘Come on,’ I said resuming my way up the stairs, ‘it’s no good if I just tell you bits and pieces.’

‘Vhenan,’ he said a little more firmly, ‘the Nightmare? You were at the Black City?’

I turned back, ‘I don’t think we were at the Black City, but the Nightmare,’ I brushed a hand into the air as though it was nothing, as though it hadn’t taken Blackwall, as though it wasn’t still haunting me, ‘it was just a fear demon, whispering terrors.’

‘Hellana, tell me.’ 

I frowned, looking down and took a breath, ‘it was old-‘ I paused, my gaze flicking to the darkening sky, ‘and powerful, powerful enough that it could make Marina see spiders and me see hares.’

He chuckled, unexpectedly, ‘You are afraid of rabbits?’

I smacked him lightly on the arm for the cheek, ‘only white ones.’ We continued up the stairs and walked across the empty hallway, ‘it’s still,’  _ haunting me.  _ I tapped against my head, making the point without filling the air with words I didn’t want to speak. ‘And she called it  _ Era’mis. _ ’ I added suddenly remembering the name the Divine has called Nightmare. 

Solas racked a hand back across his scalp, and he shook his head, ‘I’ve heard of the demon, it should be guarding the Black City, what is it doing-‘

‘Corypheus,’ I cut him off, ‘it's working for Corypheus.’

He pulled me tightly to him, I could feel him shaking with anger or fear or another emotion entirely I couldn’t judge. I just clung back like a drowning woman who had some driftwood.

‘Oi, Inky, quit the lovey-crap. You owe us an explanation.’ Sera’s voice cut through. 

I pulled back and looked at her she looked somehow younger than I remembered her. Her eyes were blood-stained and I knew she’d been crying. Varric was at her elbow, an eyebrow raised. 

The dossier Leliana had sent me was burning a hole in my jacket. I looked between the two, and I was suddenly unsure of the plan that I had come up with after two weeks of sleepless nights. I sighed, it was rather too late to change this particular plan now. ‘Let’s get this over with.’ I said, and turned to lead the little group to my quarters. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mini plot line of Nightmare used to work for Fen’Harel comes from Fen’Harel’s epithet ‘Bringer of Nightmares’, and I thought I could twist it to fit :D


	118. Truth Will Out

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Inner Circle gathers to discuss what to do about Blackwall.

Once the inner circle had gathered in my quarters, I let Cassandra take the lead on recounting the events that had lead us through Adamant, the battle and our fall into the fade. Dorian had brought three bottles of brandy, which I considered excellent forethought, I paced near the windows half listening to Cassandra’s account, but mostly drinking the slightly bitter liquid from a cracked mug. It was only when she came to the final moments in the fade, when she deferred to Marina and myself. 

Marina gave me a hard look, ‘Blackwall was injured and-‘  _ Stroud left him behind.  _ I knew exactly what she was going to say, but I couldn’t let that simply be his legacy. 

‘He died protecting us,’ I cut across. Before placing my mug down on my desk and stepping over to the circle of chairs. ‘He died saving our lives.’ I repeated. ‘We are only here, because he sacrificed himself, and-‘ I paused, tasting the words in my mouth before I spoke them. This was the last chance to back out, ‘I need you all to remember that, Leliana, can you tell them what was in your report, please.’ 

 

‘We should still give him a proper funeral,’ Josephine said carefully, after all of the revelations were laid out on the table.

Vivienne sniffed, ‘he lied, whatever respect I had for the irrelevant Warden is gone, now we know the truth.’

‘Watch it,’ Sera snarled at her, raising out of her armchair before Varric threw a hand out to stop her. She breathed hard, ‘all soldiers do nasty shit, every one of us has done worse since, but he did help, right?’ 

Vivienne ignored Sera gesture as though it was all rather beneath her, ‘I do realise you were close, darling, but is this the face of the inquisition we want our enemies to see?’ 

‘So we do the wrong thing for the sake of appearances?’ Josephine shot back to Vivienne. Then she looked a little sheepish, ‘do we really need to tell anyone?’

There was silence for a long moment, and Dorian made a sort of strangled sound as though he disagreed strongly.

‘Yes, we tell everyone,’ I said instead, pulling Blackwall’s file out, and I handed it to Varric, ‘any experience writing biographies?’

‘You want me to write this up?’ The storyteller questioned back, his mouth agape and his eyes wide. 

Marina, who had been leaning back in her chair, snapped forward with a clatter, ‘come along, isn’t it exactly the story you’ve always wanted to write, complex villain, redemption arc?’

Varric scratches at his beard, but didn’t answer.

Cassandra threw her hands up into the air, ‘so the traitor gets rewarded.’

‘No,’ I said sharply, ‘he spent years hoping no one would ever find out. It’s his punishment, letting the world know exactly what he did.’ 

‘Ruthless,’ Marina clucked at me with a wink. I ignored her.

Leliana crossed her arms, ‘those files are confidential,’ but as she spoke Varric was already leafing through the document. 

He raised a hand as though to placate her, without raising his eyes from the various letters, ‘don’t worry, I wouldn’t publish anything without your say so.’ 

Leliana didn’t look impressed, but didn’t object either. 

‘Are we forgetting the small detail he was wearing a dead man’s face? Lying about his identity to infiltrate the Inquisition.’ Vivienne asked, her lips turned up in disgust. 

I was about to tell her that for a man that had worked for Gaspard, he was awfully in favour of keeping Celene on the throne, but the words died in my mouth when Solas spoke first, ‘I find myself in agreement with Madam de Fer.’ 

‘Infiltrate? We found him in a field.’ Sera retorted, ‘but he’s a good liar, I’ll give him that.’ 

‘Well what about Cole, he isn’t really Cole, should we trust him?’ Cassandra added, her fingers clenched into fingers around the arms of her chair. She wasn’t taking it well at all.

‘If you must know, I don’t trust Cole either.’ Vivienne snapped, and studied her cuticles.

Solas threw her a disdainful look, ‘a spirit that willingly took on a human form to help, is hardly the same thing.’ 

‘Rainier, Blackwall, does the name really matter?’ Bull asked, curiously, from where he’d been sat uncharacteristically quiet throughout the entire debriefing. ‘Man died surrounded by demons-‘ 

‘This isn’t the Qun, names don’t change every month here,’ Dorian replied to him softly, tapping his hand gently, reassuringly. 

Bull watched the other man with his one good eye, and nodded, although his expression showed that he didn’t really understand. 

‘Are we sure he’d dead?’ Sera asked her voice no louder than a whisper. 

I swallowed hard, ‘as sure as I can be.’ I said, not wanting her to drown in false hope.

She sobbed silently, and pulled one of her knees up to her chest. ‘He was one of us.’

‘If we’re doing a funeral, we’d might as well do it properly. Since we saved the sorry bunch of idiots, the Warden’s shouldn’t mind if we call in some favours,’ Marina said, sitting forward, glancing between myself and Josephine, her fingers tapping lightly on her knee. ‘Whatever posthumous honours we can rustle up.’ 

Josephine nodded, and then looked to me for my approval, ‘get it done.’ I said, standing and hunting out my discarded brandy mug. 

 

The group has begun to disperse after that, drifting off in dribs and drabs to get some sleep. It was almost midnight. I caught Leliana before she could leave. 

‘Is there anything else I should know?’ I questioned her when it was only her, Solas and me left in the room. 

Leliana’s lips pursed together, ‘well, everyone’s background checks out-‘ she paused, ‘except-‘ 

‘Who?’ 

She turned back,  _ Solas.  _ She looked at him expectantly. 

He stiffened a little, and crossed his hands back behind his waist, ‘what would you like to know?’ 

Leliana spread her hands, ‘where you’ve been for the last,’ she paused flicking her teeth with her tongue, ‘say twenty years.’ 

Solas sat down gracefully onto a chair, and poured himself some brandy, taking the moment to consider. ‘And now we rattle the cage,’ he muttered to himself, before shooting me a dark look as if this violation of his privacy was my fault. ‘I have been wandering the wilderness and exploring places that have been untouched for centuries.’ He said with biting patience, as though he’d said the same thing a hundred times. 

‘And can anyone prove that, did you go back to the same town for supplies, did you meet with anyone-’ Leliana broke off, yawning. She shook her head slightly and looked to me, ‘it’s too late for this, if you trust him.’

‘Of course,’ I replied quickly. 

She gave me a look,  _ on your head be it, ‘ _ goodnight then,’ she walked to the stairs. ‘May the Maker go with you.’

‘And may the Dread Wolf never catch your scent,’ I replied, with a smirk. 

She shook her head again, but gave me a smile and left. 

I turned back to Solas, who was sat, oddly still, lost in thought. ‘Are you alright?’ I asked after the heartbeats had stretched on. 

‘The Nightingale sings prettily, she is right I can not prove to you where I have been. Maybe you should not be so quick to trust.’ He said barely louder than a whisper. 

‘Hey,’ I said, catching his cheek in my palm forcing him to look at me, _I was powerless to reassure him._  ‘I can’t prove where I’ve been either.’ 


	119. An Offering to Elgar'nan

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lavellan finally gets a decent nights sleep, which is good because she's got one hell of a day to look forward to.

_ My limbs were too long, and my face freshly burnt. My brand new bow was strung across my back, finally I was a Hunter! That’s who I was, and with a woven band across my wrist I was about to go on my first mission. I’d made my offering to Andruil and Ghilan’nain both, my quiver was full and I was waiting for my cousin. He was all smiles and exuberant confidence, he was going to be showing me the ropes.  _

_ I was waiting, sat at the edge of camp, my side resting against the cool stone of the howling statue of Fen’Harel. It was a perfect day, light wispy clouds danced across the white open blue skies. It would be the first time in almost a year when I had left the relative safety of camp.  _

_ Soon enough, we were ready, I stretched and we picked our way carefully through the light forest that encircled our clearing. It was half a mile away from camp, when Sil had stopped me and pointed out the hare in front of us.  _

_ I took out my bow and aimed, I knew I had hunted it, we’d cooked and eaten the creature that day, but now replaying the memory I could not. My arms were frozen and the arrow would not fly. Terror wrapped around my soul as the hare looked up at my slowly, beady eyes filled with contempt.  _

_ From besides me a mighty creature jumped out from the undergrowth and I fell backwards in shock. A wolf, had the fearling in his jaws, shaking the hare back and forth so fast the shape of it blurred. Then the wolf spat the hare onto the ground, and just looked at me across the twisting forestscape, blinking with too many eyes.  _

 

I sat bolt upright in the  _ shem  _ bed. I was back in Skyhold, and a young hunter no longer. The pale light of morning told me that I’d actually slept through the night. I felt better than I had in weeks, and a sleepy hand at my waist reminded me that I wasn’t alone. I pulled away from the man who wanted me to remain in bed. 

Wrapping myself in a robe de chambre _ , the only good thing to come out of Orlais _ , I made my way to the lower floor. Sitting in front of a small vanity table, I began unwrapping the golden victory braids. I watched the woman in the mirror, carefully taking out the braids, and smoothing out her now crimped hair. The thread piled up on the table before her and she ran a hand through her hair. It wasn’t the victory that she’d hoped for, but it was time to put the past to bed. Blackwall’s funeral service would be in a few hours, Mother Giselle had been convinced to give the service. Josephine had promised to send up appropriate clothing, the woman in the mirror with pale pink twisting branches across her face had never been to an Andrastian service. She took a breath and studied me back. I wondered what the woman saw, an Inquisitor or an imposter? 

I washed out my hair in steaming perfumed water and started to feel a little bit more like myself. With a wet loose plait down my back, I ventured outside into the biting cold of the balcony. Armed with the knotted pile of golden thread, I knelt in front of my little shrine. The wind was still today, and the sun caressed warm kisses on my skin. The statue of Elgar’nan, was a robed man painted with delicate lightning lines, holding aloft a golden painted sun. His eyes had been painted completely black and I felt his sight upon me. I pulled an offering bowl forwards, and placed a charcoal disk into it. Setting fire to the disk took me longer than I’d expected as the cold nipped at my hands making them numb. But when the disk was burning, I added sweet herbs and the thread. I sat back on my heels, watching the fire engulf the thread and laid my fingertips on the lines of my  _ vallaslin.  _

‘Great Lord, who burned my enemies, I offer you my thanks.’ I said simply. I waited there until the thread had completely disappeared, then I tipped a small jug of water over the disk putting it out completely. I stood, brushed my hands off and left the shrine. 

 

The little Chantry was packed with people, by virtue only of my position, I was given pride of place in the front row. Under the watchful eyes of the cold stone Andraste. Flanked by Josephine and Cassandra, with Leliana besides her. Half a hundred candles burned before Andraste’s feet, casting long sinister shadows across her features. I shifted unable to find any comfort in the place. Cassandra tutted at me as I once again tried to settle onto the hard wooden bench. 

Mother Giselle lead the service, which was shockingly impersonally and unbearably long. And I had to follow Josephine’s lead, when to sit, when to stand, when to sing and when to stay silent. I had thought the droning hymns were the worst, long recitations of the Chant of Light set to uninspired rhythm.  _ It was no wonder the Maker abandoned this place,  _ I thought cruelly after the fourth such hymn.  _ Andraste might have been able to sing, but this lot couldn’t.  _

The worst part in fact, was when I thought the service must surely have been over, but instead a small velvet pouch was handed around. Cassandra passed it to me and I stared at it blankly, Josephine muttered and passed me a golden coin. I looked at her, and watched as she dropped her own coin into the bag. ‘Offering,’ she whispered, ‘to pay for the service.’ Then she took the little pouch off me and passed it to the row behind us. 

I rubbed my eyes, trying hard to avoid touching my  _ vallaslin.  _ Of the things that I was prepared to do, making offerings to gods that were not mine was beyond me. ‘Excuse me,’ I whispered, laying Josephine’s coin down on the wooden seat, and then slipping past the mourners. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really wanted to contrast Dalish practise with Andrastian practise in this chapter, and I hope it comes across. I tend to imagine the Dalish side of things as being quick and able to be packed up at any moment in case trouble comes alone. Whereas the much more secure Andrastians really like to take their sweet time with things.
> 
> Also it's like what, three/four funerals now, I really hope this fic doesn't become known as that one with all the funerals :')


	120. Commotion in the Courtyard

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It is Blackwall's wake, and Lavellan tries her best to make sure everything goes smoothly. But it seems that Mages will do as they please.

‘I heard the Herald was so moved, she had to leave the service.’ 

‘Good, those in shadow always find the light.’ 

I considered telling the pair where they could stick their light, but decided it wasn’t appropriate to start a brawl in the middle of Blackwall’s wake. Instead I schooled my temper and walked away. 

I found Sera outside of the Herald’s Rest, leaning against the wall a mug of Ferelden ale in her hand. She waved me over when she saw me. ‘He would’ve liked it, full honours and everything.’ She said after a long moment. 

I nodded, unsure of what Blackwall would have wanted. 

‘Warden Gordon, he didn’t tell me his name was Gordon.’ She scoffed, ‘ _ Warden Gordon, _ ’ she repeated and threw her head back and laughed bitterly, ‘of all the names to pick, he goes for that one.’ 

‘I know,’ I muttered, perching on the little outcrop of wall next to her and resting my arm on the windowsill. ‘I’m thinking of changing mine to Herald Beryl.’ 

She spluttered her drink, and lent her head on my shoulder, ‘it’s good that.’ She shook lightly and I knew she was crying. I wrapped my arm around her waist. 

‘Oh gods,’ I whispered, First Moherinal was making a beeline directly for me. ‘Here comes trouble.’ 

Sera pulled back, and furiously wiped her eyes with the back of her sleeve. 

‘Hunter,’  Moherinal greeted me and gave Sera a pleasant enough smile, ‘ _aneth ara_ ,’ he said to her.

She gave him a distasteful look, ‘what did you just call me?’ 

‘It’s just a greeting,’ I explained conversationally. 

Sera scoffed and looked at the First over, in his too short Keeper style robes. ‘Try words that mean something, like these words.’ 

Moherinal looked me to for support, and all I offered him was a shrug. Secretly deeply enjoying his discomfort. He shifted a little on the spot and said the worst thing I could imagine, ‘I can teach you if you like.’ 

‘Pffffft.’ 

I rolled my eyes at him.  _ ‘ _ Mother Mythal give me strength, you’re going to lead the clan. _ ’  _ _ Insufferable prat.  _

He puffed up, offended, and his mouth curled in disgust at me, ‘yes I am.’ 

‘Well you’d better learn how to read people, and quickly.’ I snapped back.

He opened his mouth like a fish out of water, but I never knew what he was going to say as a blood-curdling shriek pierced the air. 

‘Ahhhhhh, Dread Wolf take you!’ Merrill was running for her life, down the main stairs from the Keep, pursued by a large black crow. 

I glanced to  Moherinal , ‘help me sort this out.’ I offered, but didn’t wait for an answer as I ran over to the bottom of the stairs as Merrill was trying to swat at the bird with a large green leather covered book. It cawed angrily and flapped about trying to peck the elf.

I noticed that Moherinal had followed me, but was watching mouth open. So I poked him in the ribs, ‘use your bloody staff would you!’

He glared at me for a single moment, blinking uncomprehendingly. A heartbeat later a green shield shimmered over Merrill protecting her from attack. The colour was so intimately familiar I knew in my soul that it was not Moherinal who had cast it. A  hand on my left shoulder confirmed my suspicion as Solas stepped up next to me, ready to lend his support.

The crow dropped to the ground, melting into a black pool, ‘caw-se you, little thief!’ it shrieked reemerging as Morrigan.

‘I’m the thief?’ Merrill shouted back, ‘you stole this from us!’ She raised the book again as a weapon, then she seemed to think better of it and twisting roots shot out from the ground to climb with thorns up Morrigan’s exposed leg, drawing blood with each inch. ‘You did this to yourself.’

‘Merrill!’ I heard Hawke’s voice ring out from somewhere behind me.

Morrigan snarled and lightning crackled in her hand, she tried to take a step forward, but her leg was trapped. Instead, a blast of cold froze the plant and it cracked away from her, leaving pinprick bloodstains.

‘Mage fight!’ Someone in the crowd shouted.

‘Wooh, wooh,’ I soothed, darting between them. I felt another flash of green on my skin, warding me from the worst of the damage that either mage could throw. My back was to Merrill and I held a hand up to Morrigan, ‘what is going on?’ I demanded.

‘Magpie’s struck again I see.’ I heard Hawke comment from behind me, but didn’t turn to see her, instead I raised a hand. Waiting for Morrigan to explain herself.

‘I returned to my rooms, only to find her hands going through my belongings.’ Morrigan snapped, yellow eyes glistening with eagle-like fury.

I turned, ‘Merrill?’

‘Yes, I took it.’ She showed me the cover, and then turned back to Marina Hawke, ‘I was looking for this years ago, remember we tracked down clan Solan?’

Marina nodded, pursed her lips and then looked from Morrigan to me, ‘they told us a  _ witch _ had taken it.’   

Morrigan gave her a cold look, ‘do you think the word will offend me?’

Merrill looked at her, eyes narrowed, and I saw her almost hand the book back for a split second. Leliana and Vivienne had separately warned me of believing anything Morrigan said, and Morrigan claiming to be the daughter of  _ asha’bellanar _ was exactly the sort of thing that I wouldn’t take at face value. I looked up at the open sky,  _ Mother Mythal give me strength, this night was getting out of hand.   _

I held my hand out to stop her, then I cleared my throat, ‘ _ Lady _ Morrigan, answer me honestly, did you take this book from a clan?’

‘Tis hardly stealing if they did not know what they had.’ She replied smartly. Cold golden eyes on Merrill.

I dropped a hand to my hip, ‘want to try that again?’ I snapped.

Morrigan glanced at me, raised an eyebrow and seemed to notice my ears for the first time, ‘I simply put the book to better use.’

‘As you put my  _ eluvian _ to better use?’ Merrill asked, soft and quiet. I see Marina wrap her hands around Merrill’s shoulders, supporting and protecting in the same movement.

I looked down at the book then, and frowned unable to read the elven script that danced across the cover, ‘what even is this?’ I asked Merrill.

Merrill ran her fingers across the cover, ‘it is a guide on how to bring the  _ eluvians  _ back. If only I had this, maybe-‘ She trailed off, looking glum.

‘Dirthamen untangle this, what is an  _ eluvian _ ?’ Moherinal snapped, his hand digging his staff into the ground.

Merrill responded first, ‘a mirror for magically talking across large distances.’

Morrigan exhaled sharped, and the corner of her mouth raised, as though she’s won some kind of point, ‘they’re portals, to beyond this world, beyond even the fade.’

I clapped my hands together, ‘great. So, the  _ mirror  _ you brought wasn’t just for your vanity?’ I asked Morrigan, who narrowed her eyes at me.

‘I did tell you about my obscure knowledge?’ She queried to me.

I racked a hand through my hair. ‘You did,’ I turned back to Merrill, ‘for the time being, we’ll keep this book in the library.’ There was a short protest from both women at that, but I cut them off with a flashing hand gesture, ‘Mythal give me strength,’ I swore. ‘Morrigan you have about one months to get all of the notes you need, then Merrill, I do think we should return it at the  _ Arlathvhen.  _ Happy?’ I asked after a moment. Neither was overly happy with the compromise, if anything Morrigan looked distracted. ‘Oh, and it’s a Wake please stop fighting.’ 

‘Mythal,’ Morrigan whispered, before turning and heading back up the stairs. 

I waved my hand with annoyance at her back and turned back to Merrill. 

Her hands were still clutched around the book and she was shaking. It was Marina who spoke, soothingly, ‘let’s get you a stiff drink.’ She said leading the other woman towards the Tavern.

‘Good idea,’ I agreed, ‘thank you, my love,’ I said to Solas pointedly, ‘for the wards.’ 

Moherinal had the decency to look ashamed and shuffled away. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Without meaning too, I seem to have gathered all the characters whose name begins with a 'm' in this chapter >.<


	121. What is a Keeper without his Clan?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lavellan should have learned by now her First has a short fuse, and she'd accidentally set it off.

The sun had set, and the evening had turning into something not unlike a party. Blackwall has made connections with half of Skyhold it appeared, and all of them wanted a drink. And Cabot was hardly the man to turn down a crowd. The fire pits had been lit, and in the still night the wood smoke drifted lazily about. 

‘It wasn’t supposed to be like this,’ I confided, as the guilt bubbled under my skin unable to be contained for a second longer. 

Solas glanced across, he sat next to me, one leg tucked up and the other stretched out in front of him. He had been tapping his foot to the quiet tune that Maryden played, but it stilled at my confession. We were near enough to one of the fire pits to be warm, but not to be overheard. ‘No it wasn’t.’ He agreed grimly. 

I laughed a bitter laugh, ‘well, I told Stroud to stay behind.  _ The Warden stays.’  _ The only other person in this world who knew was Marina. I gazed into the fire, not daring to look at him. Not daring to see what he thought of me now. 

‘Hellana, Blackwall knew the risks.’ He set his wine glass down carefully, filled with plum wine, too sweet for my own taste and I’d only playfully mocked a little because of it. 

I shook my head violently, ‘I don’t want-’ I couldn’t finish the sentence, there were too many endings. 

‘I understand,’ he said carefully and then swallowed hard. 

The coil of worry that had wrapped around my heart, slithered away. I glanced over and he looking straight ahead. As though the fire would reveal all of our secrets. ‘I-’ he broke off, as though the words choked him, ‘your hand-’ he began again, but seemed unable to finish. 

‘What is it?’ 

He considered his words, tasting them before he spoke. Eventually he leaned back a little, and gave me a small smile, ‘I was simply wondering if being in the fade has altered your mark.’ 

‘Oh,’ I said, surprised, and dropped my hand in his lap, ‘I haven’t noticed, what do you think?’

With agonisingly slow care, he lifted my hand and I felt the faintest tendrils of magic test it. His eyebrows furrowed together and he bit his lip as he studied my hand. ‘The same, I think.’ 

‘The same?’ I repeated back, and threaded my fingers through his. Then I lend over conspiratorially, ‘you know,’ I whispered, ‘if you just wanted to hold my hand, you hardly needed to go to such effort.’ 

He scowled at me, but smiled, and lifted my hand to his lips. The green glow casting odd shadows across his sharp features. ‘Ahh, more investigation shall be required, vhenan.’ He murmured against my skin. 

‘Mmm, I defer to the expert.’ I was warm, too warm for such a cold night. Warm that had nothing to do with the wine.  _We should get out of here._

‘Ewww,’ Sera interrupted, crouching down next to us, sloshing herself with ale as she did so.

‘Sera.’ Solas intoned harshly, giving her a look that might have killed, if she’d only bothered to glance in his direction. 

She held up two fingers to me, but went cross-eyed when she tried to focus on them. She shook her head violently and dropped one of her fingers. ‘Your head pillock is being rude to Dalish.’ She jammed her thumb back behind her and I saw  Moherinal chatting with Dalish, who from the expression on her face would rather have been literally anywhere else. 

I sighed, ‘grand.’  _ I should probably deal with that.  _ Reluctantly I dragged myself to my feet, throwing a regretful, apologetic look to Solas as I crossed the courtyard. 

‘-is good, but have you tried a dawnstone enchanted aiming module?’ Moherinal was asking her, practically buzzing with the excitement of getting to lecture someone new. 

‘No,’ Dalish replied, her arms crossed over her chest, and her tone distrustful, ‘the aiming module on my _ bow  _ is fine.’ 

Moherinal noticed me, and spread his arms in a welcoming gesture, although his face only read as sarcastic. ‘The great and mighty Els, has graced us with her presence.’ 

Dalish gave me a thankful look, looked up at the sky and slipped away. 

I raised an eyebrow at my First, ‘too informal  _ Moe,’  _ I snapped. He knew he was not allowed to use my clan name, and by rights I shouldn’t have used his. 

He laughed as though I hadn’t slighted him. ‘Does it matter? You won’t be back.’ 

‘What’s that supposed to mean?’

He twisted his hands together, a tortured expression across his face, ‘you don’t think I can lead our clan.’ 

_ Creators preserve me. No, of course I don't,  _ I wanted to say to him. But that wouldn’t help. ‘I think you will.’ My words didn’t even convince myself. 

He scoffed, ‘well don’t worry about it. I won’t be leading  _ you _ .’  

I considered calling one of the Inquisition Agents, throwing him in one of the cells until he - until he what? Grew up? 

As I hadn’t said anything,  Moherinal frowned and tried against slower as though I was particularly simple, ‘you’ve taken the trade, you’re lost to us and you don’t even see it do you? 

I could only stare open mouthed at him, sure I had snapped at him earlier, perhaps it was unnecessary. But I couldn’t understand where this animosity had come from. ‘I am not lost.’ I replied coldly. 

‘Really? You are happy to defend anyone you’ve known for a few months over me, over your own clan? Do you even know where your loyalties lie anymore?’ He whined. 

I was going to answer him, when I noticed his hand was bandaged. I grabbed it, bringing it into the light. ‘What did you do?’ I whispered horror struck. 

He pulled his hand back, giving me a sheepish look, ‘exactly what I needed to do.’ 

_ He cursed me!  _ ‘You were right,’ I said without thinking, ‘and there is one thing we can agree on. You will never be  _ my  _ Keeper.’ I considered slapping him across the face, but I didn’t. Instead I turned on my heel and left him there. 

‘They’ll take your name.’ He shouted after me. ‘And if they don’t,  _ I will _ .’ He promised. 

I stuck my hand up in a particularly rude  _ shem  _ gesture and threw it back at him.

 

‘Fen’Harel protect me from tyrants.’ I hissed as I stopped next to Solas. He gave me a curious look over his wine glass. I waved a hand to dismiss it, ‘want to get out of here?’ 

A coy smile played across his features, as he stood smoothly, dusting his hands off. 

‘What happened?’ He asked me as we were halfway up the stairs to the main hall. 

I smiled, ‘the idiot told me he was going to exile me, when he became Keeper. I might lose my name, but he will lose the Lavellans. And a Keeper without his clan is as good as a god without his people.’

‘And what is a god without his people?’ 

‘Nothing.’ 

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tried to write some fluff, but the plot smashed its way into this chapter instead >.<


	122. Undone

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lavellan and Solas have an evening to themselves.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Um... so yesterday, I made the decision [mistake] to finally take play Trespasser with Hellana, something I’ve been avoiding since the new year. But once I’d collected all the elfroot in the Hinterlands, I couldn’t put it off any longer. Saying a sort of goodbye to my darling Els, is like losing my arm [no pun intended]. 
> 
> What I’m trying to say is that this chapter is completely unplanned, no plot, just some smut to soothe my broken heart! I’m sorry(?) :O
> 
> Warning - smut, kinda explicit, kinda ridiculously flowery language. The whole chapter can be skipped that isn't your thing! :D

The door to my quarters hit the wall behind it, the wood ricocheting off the stone and slammed itself shut with a satisfactory clatter. Not that I paid it much mind, only reaching out to twist the bronze key in the lock. There would be no more interruptions, if Skyhold was on fire and it couldn’t be put out without me, we’d just all have to burn.

Whispers had been our honour guard, but the moment we were out of sight of the gossiping nobles in the hall, I pounced. I dragged Solas by the belt to me, pulling us back against the rough hune stone, like jagged teeth biting into my back, impatiently waiting to consume us both. A growl rose in the back of my throat and I successfully, frantically unbuckled the offending strip of leather around his waist and let it slip to the ground, followed by the pelt over his shoulder. He didn’t even seem to notice them hit the ground as he was working through the ties on my jacket.

A few heartbeats later, his hand fisted into my hair, tight and desperate as he bent down to kiss me. Our conversation had been long forgotten, cut mid-sentence and thrown as carelessly as our clothes to the floor. 

Kissing Solas was like being swallowed by the sense of high summer, his fingers felt like golden sunlight dancing through a leafy canopy and he tasted like sticky sweet plums. I knew I’d drown in him if I wasn’t careful, and my caution had blown away, taken by the warm breeze of his wanting breath.  

The stairs, stretched up like an insurmountable mountain pass, winding their way upwards towards the bed. I wasn’t sure we’d make it, wasn’t sure it was entirely necessary, I’d take him on the cold stone floor. As though he read my mind, he chuckled softly, and pulled back to lick urgent kisses down my neck. I shivered under his unwavering attention, my pulse hammering  an accompaniment in my throat, marking the beat of his delicate, dedicated touches. 

He began to stroke insistent patterns against my inner thigh, I was a canvas under his painter’s hands. A lump of clay, waiting to be formed by his burning white-hot focus. To be moulded by his singular desire to see me undone. He tempted my leg to wrap around his waist, hooked tightly against his waist. He had enchanted me, enraptured me without magic. 

Tangled together, my fingers slipped under the hem of his shirt to find his smooth skin. My palms flat against his belly, my left hand glowing ever green and visible beneath the layers of fabric. My hands slipped upwards temptingly slowly, grazing my nails against his chest. He leaned into the gesture. I shrugged his shirts into the impromptu pile of discarded garments. Then I took the moment to admire him, he was truly beautiful to look at, like some Orlesian statutory brought to life. 

The moment didn’t last, as he lifted me up, supporting me against the devouring wall. I arched against him, and drew his mouth back to mine, hungrily kissing him. Then I gasped against his lips, clutching desperately on as he ascended the stairs. For my fears I was rewards with another chuckle. And all my prayers were directed at him, and I could do no more than hang on for dear life, and trust he would keep me from falling. 

My worship was rewarded. But we didn’t make it to the bed, as I had never expected us to. Gently, revenantly he sat me down on the arm of the sofa. My legs were still twisted around his waist, anchoring him to me. 

He smirked and ran his tongue along his teeth, as though plotting his next move. Before he had a chance to decide, I twisted slowly from the embrace, I slid, dropping down onto the cushions proper. He moved to follow me, to come down with me - and my hand rested against his hip bone, gentle but firm - stopping him exactly where he was. 

He glanced down, his blue eyes dazzling with curiosity, seemingly unaware of my intentions. So instead he lent over, one hand resting against the sofa back, and licked the shell of my ear, raising a cold shiver across my skin. Only he could find the loophole against my demands. 

Breathlessly, I sought my revenge and traces the tips of my fingers up the long lines of his legs. Across his toned tights, until I found the curve of his hip. As I peeled away his sinfully tight trousers, the gears clicked into place. ‘Hellana?’ He gasped, voice strained and a little uncertain. 

I looked up through my eyelashes and he was deliciously flushed, lips swollen and slightly agape. ‘Yes?’ I queried back. The tips of my fingers curved into the grove at his hip and edged him closer till I could take him in my mouth. He groaned, unrestrained and resplendent. 

As I hollowed my cheeks, unconscious elvhen words dripped from his open mouth. Words I barely understood, but the melody was mouth-watering. Ancient words that washed over me like the lapping waves of the ocean. I pulled back, and his dark gaze came to rest on me. ‘It’s very rude,’ I pouted, and wickedly blew out a puff of cool breath. ‘To be speaking a language I barely understand.’ My words sounded course and clipped in comparison. Neither bothering nor expecting a response to my playful complaint, I returned my unwavering attention to the object of my affection. 

‘Some of it defies translation,’ he gasped out eventually and I hummed appreciatively at his words. As his fingers tightened against my base of my neck, he spoke again, ‘vhenan, you will be the end of me.’ He whispered as he shuddered, eyes tight and knuckles white. 

My grip tightened against his hip, steadying him, before he collapsed into the seat next to me. ‘That, my love, I believe is the point.’ 


	123. Lexicon of Faults

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lavellan had the morning off, so decides to catch up with Keeper Deshanna. And an unexpected visitor reveals that old gifts were not as thoughtful as previously believed.

The elven woman squinted at me, her gaze didn’t look for the Herald of Andraste, or any of my more unfortunate titles. She was armed and marked for Elgar’nan. Instead, she was simply looking to see if the lines on my face were real. She stretched out her hand and beckoned me forward. To a stand containing cool, fresh water. I used it to wash my hands and face, the cold stung. If I hadn’t been awake, it would have woken even the deepest sleeper from slumber.  _ My lines did not wash off,  _ and I was allowed forward again. 

As much as I hated to admit it,  Moherinal had actually done an excellent job in building the shrine on top of the broken tower. It was not something I would have designed, but it was practical and beautiful in its own way. A nonagonal table stood in the centre of an open-air structure. Eight sigils were carved deep into the wood, the ninth left blank. A compromise, between the two schools of thought. Each segment made of a different wood, and each stained to echo a different colour. I stood in front of the red one, though in reality it was more of an off peach. I knelt before the segment, and ran the fingers of my marked hand over the beautifully cut sigil. 

‘Sweet Sylaise,’ I whispered. And raised my arms above my head. For the first time in what felt like years I had no desperate prayers to offer. Only an offering, of myself, my love for the Mistress of the Hearth. I was named for her, and I would burn brightly in her honour. The flames of Sylaise were warm enough to melt unchanging metal, her light bright enough to illuminate the Abyss. 

I raised my fingertips to my  _ vallaslin _ , feeling the burn, and I smiled. This fire would not consume me, nor destroy the very essence of my being, it would only fuel me forward. I draped myself in red for her, in honour of her mysteries. ‘I will heal this world.’ 

Sitting back on my heels, I slowly stretched out my focus. Feeling out, into the air, the warmth of the sun struck my face. The cool breeze passed gentle kisses across my skin and I knew if I turned around I could look out over the valley and see the clearing where my clan had created a new camp. We only had one complete  _ araval _ , but it was enough. Lavellan was rebuilding, and what more could I wish for.

Maybe I should invite Merrill up here, I thought, and see if she could still believe our gods were so far out of our touch. Alone, but for the Hearthmistress, it was impossible to not feel the hand of the divine resting upon my brow. They were locked away, but they listened. Imprisoned but not silent. 

I left the shrine, feeling a lightness in my step. Recharged and ready to take on the world. Rather than returning to my quarters and sneaking back into bed as though I’d never been away, I turned out of Skyhold and down the wide path, following the route to the little clearing where my clan had taken up residence. The camp itself was still a mismatched collection of tents and semi-permanent structure, but it was growing. Blooming, like the cunning weeds the  _ shem  _ hated so much that suddenly grew in their pointless ornamental gardens. 

I tapped lightly against the doorframe of the  _ araval,  _ and then climbed in a moment later. ‘Mamae,’ I breathed seeing Deshanna. 

She looked up and smiled, broadly, honestly. Her two-tone hair was wrapped up in a tight bun against the base of her neck and she was working on some magics that I didn’t understand. ‘Da’len.’ She greeted in return, moving in a swift motion, above a string of beads, her staff moving through the air like a mountain stream carving her way through solid rock. The turquoise charms on the top of her staff rattled. Then there was a tiny flash of light, almost anti-climatic. The Keeper glanced down at her handiwork and smiled. ‘For Jilna,’ she said by way of explanation. I nodded, but didn’t ask. And a moment later she picked up the string of beads and weighted them experimentally in her hens. She nodded and placed them onto a small table. Before giving me a look over. ‘It looks like you need a cup of tea.’ She said in a voice that expected no complaints. 

I helped my mother fetch the water for the Orlesian teapot that Vivienne had given her, while Deshanna ground dried herbs to created the concoction. ‘Dehnan said the strangest thing,’ Deshanna said, as the water was boiling. 

My pulse flickered with panic, ‘oh,’ I breathed as calmly as I could. 

‘So, he’s a dream-walker.’ 

‘I’m going to kill Den.’ I threatened. 

Deshanna laughed, her peel of laughter seeming to sink into the very wood of the  _ araval _ , as thought it was soaked with her good cheer. She gave me a knowing glance and poured the water into two mugs. ‘A slip of the tongue, which sent him into a panic. He was ever so worried that he’d betrayed you.’ 

It was my turn to smile, ‘only in so far as I promised I wouldn’t tell.’ 

‘Very wise.’ Her voice was soft, and her smile was genuine, but she was playing with her ring. She opened her mouth, but seemed to think better of it. ‘And how is your… friend?’ 

I closed my eyes and shook my head, a blush forming at the memory of Solas’ first introduction to Deshanna. ‘Well, I think we’re both glad I’m back in one piece. And I’m-‘ I broke off, suddenly realising I hadn’t been haunted by the Nightmare since the first night back in Skyhold. I glanced up at my Keeper who was watching me closely, still twisting her ring about her finger. ‘I’m glad I got Sil home as well.’ 

‘He hasn’t stopped talking about it,’ she commented, and raised an eyebrow to me as a chastisement. ‘Moherinal really should have let me know.’ 

What I was about to say caught in my throat, should I tell her he’d promised to kick me out or was it a threat made after the consumption of too much wine. I took a long sip of my tea, mint leaves, with the cool taste of elfroot underneath. ‘He has done wonderful work on the shrine,’ I commented instead. 

She raised an eyebrow again, ‘I didn’t think you’d approve da’len.’ 

I lent back in my chair, ‘I can hear the gods, I’m happy.’ 

Whatever my mother had been about to say next was cut off by a nervous knock against the doorway. Followed by Merrill popping her head in. ‘Keeper, I was hoping- oh! Hellana, I came because you said about the Lexicon.’ She looked unsure, but Deshanna welcomes her in. Merrill gave me a tight smile. ‘You’ve probably forgotten.’ She added after a moment. 

‘Of course not, Mamae, I offered Merrill a look through the copy of Hawen’s Lexicon.’ 

Deshanna stood and pulled a thick tome down from a shelf. It was covered in a highweave cloth wrapping and she passed the bundle to Merrill who seemed surprised. ‘I can just look through?’ She questioned as though she was expecting conditions. 

Deshanna nodded to her. And Merrill carefully took the cover off and folded it. She began leading through the book. 

‘How is Den?’ I asked, once it became clear that Merrill didn’t need anymore help from us.

Deshanna gave me a tight smile, ‘Vaelentine is keeping him out of trouble,’ she frowned, ‘I did catch him eating grass three days back. Apparently it’s a good cure for stomach ache.’

My eyes widened and I could help the laugh that tore from me, ‘I’ll take his word for it.’ 

‘What?’ Merrill whispered, ‘that doesn’t make any- that’s not-‘ she huffed, ‘how did you get that?’ she asked the page as she tapped it with her middle finger, the page did not respond. She looked up confused, ‘I don’t think this is right.’

Deshanna frowned, ‘what are you looking for?’ 

Merrill pushed the book across, and with her nail she traced a word. It took me a moment to read the word, ‘lettuce?’ I queried. 

The blood mage nodded, ‘apparently the translation for ‘ones who serve the same goal, is lettuce.’ She looked up at Deshanna, ‘it should be  _ lethallin.’  _

Deshanna pulled the book from her, and flicked to different pages, each time her finger traced down the pages to find words that she knew and finding them to be lacking. She snapped the book closed with a crack. ‘Hawen.’ She muttered darkly under her breath. Her hand lay over the front cover, and she gave me a dark look, ‘Hawen’s gave this to Dirthanna when they were bound,’ she picked the thing up as one might pick up a viper and covered it over with the cloth. ‘Good for nothing but kindling.’ She hissed. 

Merrill fidgeted in her place. 

‘It isn’t your fault, forget it,’ Deshanna said softly, tucking the book away and reassuring Merrill with a gentle hand laid across her shoulder. ‘What were you trying to look up?’ 

She slipped out a little square of parchment, one that had been folded over and over many times. She laid it out for the two of us to see, it looked like a sketch of an archway with a twisted branch in front. At the bottom was scrawled word, that I wasn’t even sure I could pronounce. ‘Clan Solen’s book,’ she nodded to me, ‘had additional instructions to opening an eluvian, if only I could work out what it means.’ She crossed her arms and sat down heavily, resigned to a new failure.

'Ask Solas,' I offered. 'It's a long shot, but he might know.'

Merrill pulled a face, 'the hedge mage?' 

Deshanna stood, and fished in one of the drawers. Before standing triumphant and simply slide across note. I recognised it as the translation that I had sent her months ago. With everything that had happened, I was shocked that she'd managed to keep it. 

Her eyes scanned the page, and then she swore under her breath and read it through again slower this time. Her wide eyes somehow even wider. 'Dirthamen'enaste, that's why you keep him around.'  

 


	124. Mirror Mirror

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Morrigan thinks that she's worked out Corypheus' next move, but Lavellan has found some flaws in her argument.

‘The eluvians, I thought they would connect to another mirror when it was active.’ Merrill was explaining to me as we walked back up the path to Skyhold. ‘I’ve been reading about a in-between place, the way of something.’ She offered. 

‘Like a harbour for ships coming from all directions?’ I asked, struggling to picture what she was describing. My mind settling on an image of the Belle Marché in the centre of Val Royeaux, with gates leading out at every compass point. 

She shrugged in a gesture I recognised as more truthfully belonging to Marina, ‘a harbour could work, the Magpie’s calling it the Crossroads, but it’s a rather simplistic translation-’ she gave me a sly look as though sharing a secret. ‘All of her translation are simplistic.’

At least Morrigan had some sense of the language. I thought with a sting of regret. ‘A network?’ I offered, remembering suddenly the way Briala described them. 

Merrill considered, her head bobbing as she weighed the merits of the word, her fingers dancing in the air as she did so, ‘network, nexus, nectere, maybe, though I never like to go through Tevene for a good word.’ She grinned, which after a moment turned into a grimace. ‘The book had a lot of information, I won’t get through it all in time. I wish I‘d had it before, I fixed my mirror but didn’t think to go through it.’ She shook her head, as though the simple action might undo her previous mistakes. ‘It lit up, but when nothing happened, I thought it must be the only one active, and then poof it’s gone.’ She sighed lightly, and stopped abruptly, looking apologetic. ‘I’m rambling.’ 

‘You couldn’t have known,’ I said reassuringly, but I didn’t have a chance to tell her that she wasn’t rambling and I actually was interested, more than interested. As an Inquisition agent came down the mountain path towards me. They were making an odd progress, trying to run, but as the hill was so steep it was more a side-step-skid. ‘Inquisitor,’ the young elf puffed, cheeks beetroot red with exhaustion. ‘Lady Morrigan has commanded a meeting in the War Room.’ 

‘Commanded?’ I asked him, and pulled my hand onto my hip. 

The barefaced agent just shook his head resigned, ‘I am only the messenger,’ he said by way of explanation with his hands in the air, ‘her words,’ he added after a moment looking guilty. 

I faced a hand as though I was unconcerned, ‘not your fault.’ Who does she think she is. The daughter of the Witch of the Wilds, If rumours were to be believed. Not only was I pretty sure I didn’t believe it, because who had ever heard of one of Asha'Bellanar’s daughters leaving the Wilds and taking up a prestigious appointment in the Orlesian court? It was a ridiculous backstory, and I made a mental note to ask Leliana to uncover the truth. 

The agent looked relieved, paused for a single moment to check there wasn’t some other task he was needed for, bowed and left us. 

Glancing at Merrill, I smirked, ‘shall we go see what wonders the Magpie had dug up?’ 

She gave me a look, as though to ask you really want me there.

Yes, for not greater reason that because it would annoy Morrigan the most.

 

‘The Temple of Mythal?’ I repeated back, feeling numb in my bones. ‘You think there will be some ancient artifact there that hasn’t been looted before now? Or are you simply suggesting we should go loot an ancient temple?’ I asked, leaning on my elbows across the War Table, staring daggers into Morrigan. 

Leliana shifted, her perfect expressionless mask watching Morrigan closely, ‘the last elvhen artifact Hellana found started this whole mess.’ 

The Witch gave her a condescending look, ‘Corypheus wishes to enter the fade, I believe there is an object in the temple which will allow him to do so. We need to get this object before him.’ 

I dropped my head into my hands, running my fingers through my own hair and doing my very best to not tear it out at the roots in frustration, ‘it doesn’t match anything we know of Mythal, and you didn’t answer my questions.’  _ Leliana had warned me that Morrigan had convinced her companions to steal a grimoire from her mother, she could very well be manipulating us into stealing something of value for her.  _

Morrigan looked me over calmly, without really looking at me, ‘the  _ eluvian-’ _

Giggles sprung up from the corner of the table, Merrill couldn’t stop laughing, ‘ _eluvians_ ,’ she paused trying to catch her breath, ‘don’t go to the fade.’ 

‘And what do you know.’ Morrigan asked in such a way that it wasn’t really a question. 

‘You know I repaired one, you know because you stole it from me.’ She answered seriously, watching the other woman with barely concealed dislike. 

Morrigan didn’t seem to notice, ‘yes, yes, ‘tis easy enough to unlock a single  _ eluvian.’  _ The words struck Merrill as though she’d been slapped.

It was Josephine who interrupted before I could, which was lucky really as I had quite a few choice phrases to throw Morrigan’s way. ‘For the moment shall we assume the object is real, and off value, where is this undisturbed temple?’

A slim ringed finger tapped a location within the Arbor Wilds, as her yellow eyes flashed with delight.  _ Yellow eyes, like Andruil,  _ my mind dragged up the image I’d mostly forgotten. I tried to push it away but I couldn’t help the unpleasant feeling I had of being prey.  _ Morrigan’s eye was upon me,  _ I thought, and had to stop myself from smirking at the very idea. 

Leliana shifted uncomfortably, ‘actually, we have had reports of a very large Venatori presence in that area, and growing. Two weeks back I sent infiltrators to try to work out what they were doing.’ 

It was as though all of Morrigan’s wishes had come true, she grinned like a cat given cream. 

‘How many Venatori?’ Cullen asked stiffly. 

Leliana looked across with a scowl, ‘many.’ 

Cullen stared back steadily, waiting for her response. 

‘An army, a large army.’ Leliana admitted. 

Silence reigned in the little room and I looked up, finding the twisted roots of a petrified tree hanging over the war table. As Cullen, Leliana and Josephine broke the silence, arguing back and forth; I traced the twisting roots, which looked so much like the branches of my  _ vallaslin. Mother Mythal,  _ I prayed,  _ get me out of this mess.  _

 

It was only after, once we had broken away. Josephine to write to Celene asking for the support of the Orlesian army’s support, Cullen to ensure the inquisition's army was ready to march and Leliana to turn every pair of eyes she had to the Arbor Wilds, and Merrill and I were walking back through the main hall she turned to me, ‘she never answered, did you forget?’ 

I glanced across at the woman with the lines of Dirthamen scrawled across her face, ‘forget?’ I asked. 

‘Why the temple hadn’t been looted before now.’ 

Rubbing my eyes, I sprinted to my quarters to write a letter of my own. 

  
  



	125. To Answer in Person

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Briala replies to Lavellan's letter in person. Bringing with her new information that throws doubts on Morrigan's story.

My foot tapped impatiently on the floor, drumming out the passing seconds. Sat on the Inquisitorial throne, I was the arbiter of all the petty disagreements within Skyhold. The cook, a stout human woman brandishing a large wooden spoon like a gravel had been informing me for far too long about food going missing from the kitchen. Without saying it, she had been trying to imply it was somehow my fault for raising the pay of her elven kitchen staff, who were taking too many liabilities. 

Her lips moved, but I had stopped listening a lot time back. Josephine was stood looking awkwardly, like a statue made of unease. I could tell she wanted to interrupt, but the Cook had barely taken a breath since beginning her diatribe. A whole bag of turnips had gone missed the day before last, she was saying, and it was the final straw. 

My attention was suddenly drawn to a slim figure who’d slipped out from beyond the woman speaking. A barefaced elf, drew back her light hood. I hid the recognition from my face, and instead turned to Josephine. ‘Perhaps, we should replace the cook for someone who can keep an eye on our supplies?’ I said, in a stage whisper, loudly enough that the Cook began grovelling for her position. 

‘Lady Inquisitor-’ she began, but I cut her off with a little nudge of my hand into the air. 

‘If more of our supplies go missing, do report them to Josephine. Don’t come back to me again without a culprit.’ I said evenly, hoping that she wouldn’t take her rage out on any of the staff, I glanced to Josephine who seemed to have the same idea. 

‘Shall I ensure there is an agent in the kitchens to,’ she looked at the Cook frantically backing away, ‘keep an eye on things.’ 

I nodded, and as Josephine checked through her notes to find the next petitioner, I stood. ‘Excuse me, I have an important meeting.’

Josephine blinked, ‘but you-’ 

‘Something’s come up,’ I added with a smile. I looked purposefully at the woman, and went to the corridor leading to Josphine’s office and the War Room. 

 

‘I didn’t expect you to come all this way,’ I said as the wooden door opened a few moments later. 

The Marquise laughed, and tucked at the ties around her throat, unlacing her forest green cloak and folding it once over her arm and then tucking it neatly onto the sofa in front of the fire. She did not take a seat. ‘Your letter was most alarming ‘Ellana. And it was only a short walk through my network.’ Then Briala gave me pointed look, waiting to see if I had worked out what her network really was. 

I didn’t flinch, ‘of course,’ I replied smoothly, ‘wine?’ I asked instead, moving to Josephine’s supplies. _She wouldn’t mind, I thought._

‘Really, Inquisitor-’ Josephine herself said, bustling through the door, she paused noting but not looking at the other woman. ‘Oh, you did not tell me we would be hosting guests.’ The curt tone of her voice told me I was in trouble. 

I ignored it and simply poured three glasses of wine. 

‘Lady Montilyet, such a pleasure to see you again,’ Briala intoned in such a way that Josephine’s eyes snapped to Briala’s face, trying to place her.

But without her mask it was a difficult task, ‘Briala?’ She asked. 

Briala nodded, and took the glass that I handed her with a little nod. ‘Celene does not know that I am here, in fact no one knows that I am here. I would rather like to keep it that way.’ 

‘Of course,’ I said, perching on the corner of Josephine’s desk and offering her the seat. And Josephine took up a place by the fire, delicately placing her clipboard away. The meaning was clear, _this meeting was off the record._

‘I will not waste words,’ Briala said, setting her wine glass down without taking a sip, ‘Celene is facing some resistance to sending her army to help you.’ She turned, fluffing up on of the cushions with manicured hands, ‘politics,’ she said with a dismissive wave of her hand. ‘I have yet to offer an opinion to her.’ 

Josephine was quicker than me, ‘and what is it that you want?’ 

‘I’ve been granted lands in the Dales, as you may know.’ She sighed. ‘There is unrest in the Emprise du Lion, a bunch of templar soldiers have taken over mines in the area.’ 

‘You want us to sure up your borders?’ Josephine asked.

Briala gave her a white-toothed smile, ‘The Empress cannot help me, without showing,’ her smile pulled into a twisted expression, ‘an unfair favouritism.’ 

‘Sorry,’ I said, ‘you said templars?’

She nodded, ‘with some kind of horrible red infection.’ 

Josephine rubbed her hands over her eyes. _More red templars, just what we needed._

‘Of course we will help.’ I said. 

‘Once, we have Celene’s support in the Arbor Wilds,’ Josephine added quickly. 

Briala gave her a gracious nod, ‘I am glad we could come to this mutually beneficial arrangement.’ She picked up her wineglass and took a sip, ‘there is another matter, Inquisitor, I would wish to speak to you about.’ 

There was a moment of silence, before Josephine realised she was dismissed, gathered her clipboard and papers. ‘Marquise,’ she bowed and left the room, golden skirts flying behind her. 

Briala paused, her tongue poking out to wet her lips, ‘this temple, that Morrigan is interested in. I had sent some people to the University to find out more.’ She picked her cloak up and fished into the inside pockets, drawing out a folded piece of scrap paper. She dropped her cloak back and paced over to me, ‘we know exactly where it is.’ 

Taking the paper in my hands, I unfolded it to find a beautifully detailed sketch of a circular building. It looked as though it was built in a crater, accessible by a single bridge off to the side. ‘So it’s been looted then.’ I said aloud, unable to shake my disappointment. 

Briala shook her head, ‘maybe not, there have been seventeen recorded expeditions throughout the past five hundred years. This paper is the only thing to have ever come back, it was found at a deserted campsite.’

‘Really?’ 

‘The Arbor Wilds is a dangerous and uncivilised place, maybe they were all unlucky.’ Briala said, her eyes flashing and a slight smile tugging at her lips. 

‘Or perhaps Mythal does not take kindly to unwelcome guests?’ I offered. 

Briala gave me a nod, and retreated to collecting something else from her pocket. 

‘All this trouble for an _eluvian_ ,’ I muttered, taking a long sip of wine. 

Briala’s head snapped up, ‘an _eluvian_?’ 

‘Yes. Morrigan believes that Corypheus is after an _eluvian_ at the temple,’ I said, but Briala didn’t look convinced, ‘to get into the fade.’ I added, but even as I said it out loud I didn’t seem sure.

She studied me carefully, ‘it is good to know our enemy is so foolish, then. For him to mount this extremely dangerous mission into the Arbor Wilds, to collect an object that is not as rare as you would think.’ 

 _When put that way, it was obvious._ ‘Has anyone tried to take any of your mirrors?’ 

‘Not since the night of the ball in Halamshiral,’ her fingers tapped across the tops of her thighs, she glanced around the room nervously, and then placed a little envelope into my hand, tucking my marked hand on top of it. ‘I suspect you may need that before this is over. Do not tell anyone that you have, do not open it and do not read it until the moment that you do.’ 

I tucked the little envelope away into my jacket. 

‘Andruil watch over you,’ she said, as she turned to leave. Wrapping her cloak around her shoulders and slipping away. 

Once she was gone, I flicked a warding gesture into the air, ‘Andruil turn your eye from me,’ I whispered correcting Briala’s blessing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Seriously, no one questions why Corypheus wants an eluvian?


	126. The Council of Elves

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Before heading off for the Temple of Mythal, Lavellan decides to discuss the idea with the Dalish at Skyhold. Six different voices compete to be loudest, but who shall shout the loudest?

Solas appeared at the top of the stairs to my quarters, his head bent over the book he carried. ‘Vhenan, there is something you should-‘ he looked up and stopped in his tracks. Six pairs of Dalish eyes looked up at hind and a single set of bored human eyes glanced up as well. Sweet man had no idea what he was walking into. He closed the book, slim fingers marking the page. ‘ _Ir abelas,_ it appears that I am interrupting.’ And he moved to leave.

‘Join us,’ Deshanna said a touch cooly, waving a rattling wrist cluttered with bangles. 

Deshanna, Moherinal and Loranil has been crowded around my desk, trying to glean some new information from the drawing that Briala had given me. Moherinal made some move to interject, but was shot down by the murderous glance Deshanna sent her First. I could almost hear her snap, _don’t be rude._ Sil caught the look and had to stifle his laughter. 

Ignoring her rowdy clan, Deshanna smoothly picked up the paper and passed it to Solas. As he took the page, she drew her hand back quickly as though his skin might burn her. ‘Do you recognise it?’ She asked steadily, dropping her hands behind her back to fiddle with her Keeper’s ring. 

Using the book her was carrying as a smooth surface, he laid the drawing down, his dark eyes studied the page carefully and then looked up at Deshanna eyebrows pulled together. Lips twisted down in what could have been suspicion. ‘It appears to be the temple of Mythal, albeit a poor depiction.’ 

‘A poor depiction?’ Loranil scoffed in amazement, he pushed himself up from the desk and took a couple paces towards the circle of chairs, eyes wide with excitement, ‘that means it’s real.’  

I resisted the urge to rub at the lines under my eyes, burying the frustration, ‘was that in dispute.’ I asked, praying I wouldn’t get an answer. The six of us had been debating back and forth for what felt like the last six hundred years, but was probably only an hour, if the temple was real, if it was if I should go, and if I went was I allowed to take anything. 

‘Yes, it was.’ Moherinal said stubbornly. ‘Just because a _shem_ witch claims she’s found a lost temple, doesn’t mean there is one. _We have no record of it_.’ He insisted.

‘Magpie’s good at spinning lies,’ Marina added. She had turned up about fifteen minutes ago in a panic because Merrill had disappeared and she was worried that her lover had gotten lost again.

Sil clenched his fists in front of his face, ‘just because we don’t have a record doesn’t mean it isn’t real.’ He spat out. A collective groan filled the air. That was the fundamental disagreement between their two roles, the First believed what was written and the Hunters believed what we saw. ‘What about Den’s temple of Andruil?’ 

‘What about it?’ The First questioned, his hand pushing the short blond hair out of his eyes. 

‘I’m going to start doing shots, everytime someone says something dumb.’ Marina added darkly, throwing me a wistful glance. . 

‘Den wasn’t meant to find a temple, _we had no record of one,_ he still get’s his leg blasted and turned into a gods-damned halla.’ Sil stated carefully, forcefully, precisely. 

Moherinal twisted his hands together, his head tilted, ‘wait wasn’t it a temple of Ghilan’nain?’ 

My cousin frowned, ‘either way. No record.’ 

Marina sighed, ‘round and round, maybe I’m just going to start doing shots anyway.’ Merrill gave her a sleepy look, poor woman was falling asleep on Marina’s shoulder. Clan meetings were just like this sometimes, and I couldn’t entirely say I disagreed with Marina’s sentiments. In another hour I would crack open my reserve, reserve, reserve bottle of brandy. 

Ignoring all of them, Deshanna asked, ‘how did you recognise it?’ She stepped back to lean slightly against the desk. Pulling her teal Keeper’s robe around her tighter, as though she could feel a chill in the air. 

He paused for a moment, tasting the words before he said them, ‘I have been there.’ 

‘No way,’ Sil said, raising a hand and spinning on the spot so his back was to his First. ‘That’s impossible, Briala said everyone who went didn’t come back.’ 

I nodded my agreement, but didn’t look at my cousin. Solas had turned his attention from my mother to me, ‘you spoke to Briala?’ his tone conversational. 

‘I wrote her a letter,’ I answered, a half truth. But it seemed satisfactory. 

Sil was waving his hands, and one of the rope braids he had used to clip his hair back had fallen out spilling strands of white hair across his face, ‘wait, are we just going to ignore that?’ He said incredulous. 

I waved my hand dismissively, ‘he means in the fade, Sil.’ But then I rounded on Solas, a new idea popping into my head, ‘any chance your memory would be accurate enough to make a floor plan or map or anything better than-’ I waved in the general direction of the paper still in his hands, ‘give us some idea of what we’re going into.’ 

He didn’t get a chance to respond as Moherinal broke in, ‘and who said you were going?’ 

Deshanna gave him an impatient look, ‘you want the _shemlen_ to loot the temple on our behalf?’ 

Her First stuck out his bottom lip like a petulant child, _I half expected him to stamp his foot._ ‘It’s dangerous.’ He added sulkily. 

‘That is I why I will be there to make sure we both get home,’ Sil announced proudly. 

‘No chance.’ Deshanna retorted, and looked furiously at Moherinal again, ‘and no going behind my back this time.’ She turned back to Sil, ‘we divide to survive, you know what.’ 

Sil dropped into a set with a thump, his arms tight across his chest. ‘It’s not fair,’ he grumbled under his breath. 

Loranil clapped his hands together, ‘so you’re going?’ He asked me softly. 

I glanced to Deshanna, waiting for her permission, she nodded. Her eyes were sad. ‘I am, you can sell this?’ I asked. 

He grinned, ‘of course, brave hunter protecting the ancient mysteries from Tevinter fiends, it practically writes itself.’ 

Moherinal pulled a face, first aimed at Loranil and then turned to me, ‘it’s rather distasteful having a propagandist.’ 

I shook my head and went to fish out the last bottle of brandy hidden behind the books in my bookcase. 

The Hunter turned diplomate gave him a pointed look, and stuck his chin out, ‘don’t you think those who write our history down have some control over the narrative?’

Passing some cups around, I came to Solas, and stood beside him for the moment, leaning for a brief moment against his shoulder. I whispered, ‘slip away now if you like, my love.’ 

‘Dread Wolf himself won the war,’ Sil said grandly, ‘against the gods,’ he was smiling wickedly. This always happened, Moherinal came down on the side of rigidly following the rules and Sil used historical and mythological precedent to make the rules rather more, bendy. 

‘Silver!’ Deshanna hissed. 

Moherinal shifted uncomfortably, a flush creeping up his neck. He was having trouble maintaining eye contact with Sil, which was probably for the best. This wouldn’t drag on too long. 

Sil ignored them both and carried on, ‘didn’t care about his own narrative, and now look.’ He spread his broadly, ‘would you have the same fate befall our darling Els?’ 

‘Silver.’ Deshanna warned again. Her tone icy cold. 

‘Makes a point,’ I heard Merrill mutter through a yawn to Marina. 

‘You say propagandist, but would you rather paint her as the hero of the hour or nothing more than a looter?’ My cousin continued, finishing his piece by flicking me on the chin with his thumb. 

‘Dirthamen preserve us all. Silver, do shut up.’ Deshanna said and looked down as though she hadn’t realised she was stood up. She sighed dramatically, and rubbed an aged hand against her cheek. Her bracelets clattered as she moved, throwing warding gestures into the air with a careless practised ease. 

Sil bowed low to her, in a sort of mocking _shem_ gesture. Smirk plastered across his face, he did always take a perverse pleasure being as outrageously sacrilegious as possible. Before he dropped into the chair closest to him, and lend forward, elbows on his knees and waited for Moherinal’s reactions. 

‘Fine.’ The First acknowledged with a blustered shrug. ‘I’m going back to camp.’ He said before storming from the room. 

As the wooden door to the bottom of the stairs slammed shut with a loud clatter, Merrill turned to Sil, ‘do all of the Lavellen’s share your views?’ 

‘For our sins,’ Deshanna said, with her head in her hands, ‘only Istimaethoriel’s line.’

Marina squinted at her, confused and looked to me. I pointed, Deshanna, Sil, me. She nodded and propped her hands back behind her head. 

 

It was much later, when all the details had painstakingly been ironed out, and I was alone with Solas. He showed me the information that he had found. It was topographical maps of the Arbor Wilds, that combined with Briala’s information would give us a clear route through the heavily forested land directly to the temple. 

‘Your cousin has a lot of strong opinions.’ He commented. 

I didn’t look up from the map, ‘We both do,' I paused and smiled coyly up at him, 'I did warn you my clan was loud.’ 

‘The story of the Inquisitor will be told a thousand times in a thousand different ways, perhaps he shows forethought for considering which words will be used in the telling.’


	127. Memory and Miscommunication

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lavellan finally dreams of the memory that has been haunting her for years. The day she doesn’t want to remember. When her cousin tore his faith to shreds, and she collected up his tattered scraps and kept them for her own.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW - death mention / funeral (again, sorry!)

_Sil had his hand in mine, clutching tightly, so tightly I was sure I’d never feel the fingers of my left hand again. I held a burning touch aloft in my other hand, waiting, tight face and trying to not cling to him in return._ He needed me.

 _The loomy scent of the earth hung heavy and thick in the air. I looked away while all that was left of my once wise aunt was place in the ground. Wrapped in a blanket that Sil had embroidered himself. Deshanna gave a eulogy that I barely heard, something about walking the path, something about ravens, something about how we would never forget her name. I glanced at Sil, his face was twisted, I lent my forehead against his shoulder. Despite the burning of my_ vallaslin _, it was a promise. We would never forget Dirthanna._

_He didn’t react, not that I’d expected him to. Just staring blankly forward, his head nodding back and forth as though he couldn’t understand, couldn’t contain the emotions threatening to spill forth. He shrugged away from me to step forward to the mound of earth, and knelt. Leaning forward to take a scoop of dirt out, replacing it with the sapling that he carried. Carefully planting the new life that would grow, I watched my cousin crumple, as though his neck could no longer support his head and using both hands to steady himself, he finally pushed himself back to his feet. Tear stained and broken he turned to Deshanna, and exchanged a quiet word._

_She nodded, and he fled. Without waiting for permission I passed my torch to Vaelantine next to me, who took it surprised and I stepped away from the ritual. Following my cousin._ He needed me.

_Normally, he should have been difficult to track. He had three years of hunting experience on me, when he wanted to he could pass through the forest like a ghost, leaving barely a whisper on the trees that he had even been there. But today, I saw his hastey footfalls, cracked branches and crushed weeds marked his path as clearly as if I’d been a step behind. I found him in a cave, it was a little thing, barely bigger than a hollow in the hill. But it was cold and dark and out of sight. Sil has his head in his hands, resting on the moss covered rock._

_He heard me approach and struck the rock with the palm of his hand, ‘fuck the gods.’ He swore and turned to me, red eyed and waiting for my objection. He’d never spoken like that before, and I found I didn’t have it in me to disagree. ‘The Creators!’ He waved his hands up into the air, turning on his heel to face me, ‘a thousand offerings, a thousand years of service, and for what? They cannot even protect us when our minds turn against us.’ He pointed his finger at me and then himself, ‘mark my words, they’re going to burn the lot of us down and dance in the ashes.’_

_‘Silvalerin,’ I said finally, reaching for him, offering whatever comfort I could._ He needed me.

_‘No,’ he snapped, ‘I don’t want that name.’ I couldn’t help my eyes growing wide at his words, that was the name of the grandfather that we shared. The Keeper that had lead well for years, till he almost lead his clan off a cliff. Another victim of the Dread. ‘What did you used to call me, before we were-‘ he broke off rubbing his face._

_‘Silver?’ I offered._

_He smiled and nodded, he had a wild look about him, and he racked his braids back from his face, ‘good for Mythal, her colour. Call me Silver.’_

_‘If you like.’ I said, stepping forward again. ‘What is this about?’ I asked, keeping my voice low like I would if I needed to approach a wounded halla._ He needed me _._

_‘It’s in our blood,’ he said without looking at me. ‘The Dread.’_

_I stepped back, my hands dropping to my sides uselessly, ‘no it isn’t.’ I insisted, ‘our family was just unlucky.’_

_‘Cursed, they call us, whispers behind our backs they think we can’t hear.’_

_‘We are not cursed.’ I snapped_ , _we were not._

 _He didn’t say anything for a long moment. Eventually he looked at me, his eyes snapping to my_ vallaslin. _‘Promise me something, Els.’_

_‘Anything.’_

_‘Give me your knife.’ He asked, extending at hand toward me. ‘The one everyone thinks you burnt.’_

_I faltered,_ not that. _‘Sil?’_

_He shook his head, ‘not now, when I get- when the gods come for me. I fear them in my bones, but I don’t fear you. Promise me, like Deshanna did for Mamae.’_

 

I woke up, heart pounding through my chest. Solas was shaking me awake, ‘vhenan?’ He asked softly, His hands fluttering around me like early summer butterflies, trying to find the cause of my distress.

My hand was tight at my throat, clawing at the skin to try to make it easier to breathe. ‘Nightmare.’ I whispered through a cracked voice. 

‘I thought _Era’mis_ was no longer troubling you.’ He said in such a way that I wasn’t sure if it was a question of not. His dark clouded eyes full of worry, as he passed me a waterskin and helped me sit up. It was early afternoon, and I’d fallen asleep after lunch. Curled up by the fire, waiting for our agents to clear the next part of the path through the Arbor Wilds.

I barked a bitter laugh, ‘not _Era’mis_ , it was never a subtle creature, this was a dream forged from memory.’ Picking the knife out of its sheath in my boot I stuck it into the ground and looked up at the sky, ‘gods forgive me. I can’t do it.’

‘What is it that you cannot do?’ Solas asked, his eyes on the dagger glistening in the clear bright sunlight.

I looked up, squinting a little from the glare, my hand resting just above my forehead to protect my eyes, ‘I can’t hurt him.’ I shook my head, ‘I won’t.’

He sat back on his heels, and studied me for a moment. I licked at my dry lips, expecting him to ask me to explain what in all of Thedas I was talking about. I wasn’t sure I was ready to share that memory, _Wasn’t sure if I’d ever be._ He surprised me with his words, ‘your duty is so easy to shake off?’

I glared at him, _how dare he,_ but found no judgement in his eyes. Just an unsettlingly calm look. ‘Forget it, my love, it is hardly duty, just a promise from a previous age. Perhaps, I will never be called to act.’ Pushing myself up I stretched my back out. _Sweet Sylaise,_ I thought in the direction of the fire, _protect my clan, especially from themselves._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> According to my notes - this is it, the midway point!! Ahhhhhhhhhh!  
> Thank you, thank you!! To everyone that had read up to this point, to everyone that’s left a lovely comment, to everyone who had dropped me kudos!! <3


	128. The Pavilion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Preparing for the assault on the Temple of Mythal is arduous, and Lavellan feels utterly alone. Good thing she isn't.

Cullen’s hands moved the counters across the map stretched across the grand mahogany table. Discussing the plan of attack with two of Celene’s chevaliers. It was like a great game of chess, except every time he lost a piece a hundred lives would be snuffed out. He was describing two chokepoints, near the temple, were even a small number of Corypheus’ forces could withstand the combined might of the Inquisition and Orlais’ army. Swift and sharp, we would need to be to cut through those points and ideally turn them against the enemy. 

‘Thousands may be lost, Commander, if this doesn’t work,’ the taller of the two chevaliers noted, without any real sense of emotion. 

‘Yes,’ Cullen admitted gruffly, ‘but we need to give the Inquisitor time to find the-‘

‘And if there is not enough time?’ Briala asked, wearing the mask of the Marquis of the Dales. A subtle blue and gold filigree, that echoed the elegant arches of old Dalish ruins. 

‘Corypheus will claw his way into the fade, gain his heart’s desire, tearing the world apart in the process. A most alarming consequence, I am sure you agree?’ Morrigan replied, ignoring Briala completely and addressing her answer to the Empress, who studied Morrigan like a cat watching a dustmote. 

Celene’s hands flickered over the War Table, picking up one of the pieces that marked Corypheus’ forces. She weighed the little counter in her hand, ‘and if we fail? If we cannot hold his forces back? Do we destroy the temple?’

Her question was marked with silence, and slowly the little gathering turned to look at me. It felt like half a hundred eyes gazed at me, waiting for my verdict. ‘No, of course we don’t.’ 

‘But if the Inquisitor falls-’

‘No,’ I said again, more firmly the second time. ‘That command remains, even when I’m dead.’ 

‘Andraste guide you,’ Celene told me sincerely. Through her mask she seemed kindly enough. But the very thought unsettled me.  _ Mother Mythal will guide me.  _ I silently corrected her. 

I didn’t say anything for a moment, instead nodding my head to her and whispering, ‘excuse me’, and ducking out of the tent and into the fresh morning air. The sky was clear, beautifully so, as though the air did not know we were on the cusp of battle, as though no one had informed the weather we would soon be deciding the fate of the world. I wondered if anyone about me truly understood, this was not a battle, this was a pilgrimage. 

A touch at the small of my back bade me turn, ‘you look remarkably unworried.’ I commented in place of a greeting to Solas.

His face was turned upward to catch the warm of the sun, and he gave me a patient smile, ‘there is something that you should see.’ 

I narrowed my eyes at his cryptic words, ‘go on?’

My question was ignored, instead he told me to stay close. The hand at my back guiding me forwards. Around us a fine malachite coloured mist, engulfed us, so faint I could barely pick out the smokey tendrils of magic, fading our outlines into the background forest canvas. 

‘Solas, what are you-?’  _ Lurking in shadows, _ how long ago had I accused him of doing that? He did always seem to turn up exactly at the right moments. ‘I knew you were lurking.’ I finished triumphantly. 

‘I thought, perhaps, it would cause a panic if the Herald was seen fleeing camp at this late hour.’ 

I almost smacked him for calling me Herald, but then I stopped suddenly, ‘we’re leaving camp?’ 

‘Only for a few hours.’ He countered, and gave me a curious look, ‘you do not have to come-’ he began.

I shook my head, ‘let’s go.’ 

It turned out to be a mountain that flanked our camp was to be our destination, heavily forested and sloping towards the heavens with sharp symmetrical slides. I shoot Solas a curious look at his back as he walked directly into the vegetation. And then turned to help me clamber up. But we had ascended no more than ten paces, before he found ancient steps carved into the very rock. Grey stone steps, which dipped slightly in the centre as though they’d been worn down by thousands of footfalls. The wild grass covered the staircase, and parts of it was completely blocked by hanging vines, which would have made it impossible to view from below.  _ Had he been here before? _ I cast a look at Solas, but before I could say a word, he turned. ‘May I borrow your knife?’ he asked. 

Reaching down, I pulled the blade from my boot and handed it to him hilt first. 

He considered the weapon for a moment and began cutting through the vines that covered the steps, taking no more than necessary to allow us to slip through, efficiently created a path for us. Quickly enough, we had climbed up surprisingly high. The people scurried around camp the size of ants far below us. The path twisted around the mountain side, until the camp was out of sight. We had reached a broken pile of ancient timbers, carved with swirling designs. I bent down to touch one, ‘no wood-rot.’ I noted aloud, wondering if it was a magic that preserved them. Knowing how useful those spells would be to the longevity of our  _ aravals.  _

His hand reached out to push me back a little way, giving him space to weave a complex gesture into the air the beams cracked and groaned. With a snap of magic they had reformed into a small covered pavillion.  _ June’s grace!  _ Revealing to our right a stone balcony, that had become covered in thick vines. With a practised hand, Solas silently cut through the vines. Slowly revealing the view. 

I gasped. My hands springing up to cover my mouth. Wide-eyed I looked out over the stone balcony. I had seen the Temple of Mythal drawn on a scrap of paper, but it was crude a poor representation of the structure. The scale for a start had been completely off, the Temple was massive and magnificent. The Winter Palace could easily fit many times over. It was tiered like an Orlesian marriage cake, glittering gold with reflected sunlight. ‘It’s beautiful.’ I said in an awed whisper. 

‘What remains is only the centre of the sprawling city, the silver jewel of Mythal.’ He told me, and his hand raised to indicate the area around us, ‘this was part of a guesthouse.’ He looked around the little balcony and I noted there was another pathway mirrored on the other side of the pavilion. ‘The steps on the other side are long gone,’ he voice was soft, a little wistful. 

‘Why did you bring me here?’ 

‘Do you see the two statues, at the edge of the bridge?’ He stepped behind me, his left hand stretched out, alining me against his shoulder to show me the location.

Two dark, crystalline black sculptures. I took me a moment, but I spotted them. Each a stylised dragon, head twisted over itself. One guarding each side of a slim sparking bridge across the lake. ‘I do.’ 

He breathed in deeply, ‘they mark the  _ Vir Mythal’an,’ _

‘The way to the place of Mythal?’ I translated, looking up to see his response.

‘Yes.’ Sweet smile spread across his lips,’ the gates of the temple, they are sealed shut. Nothing has crossed that line in thousands of years.’ 

_ Sealed shut,  _ I considered the groups of Orlesian scholars who had attempted to break into the temple over the years and shuddered.  _ Mythal’s vengeance.  _ ‘That is why you are not worried.’ 

‘That is why I am not worried.’ He affirmed, stepping away from me and perching on a little matching grey stone bench that I had not spotted before. It was decorated in the same style as the balcony, organic twisting columns like the strong trunks of great oak trees. 

I gazed out over the view, trying to learn every line across the landscape. It would take a lifetime. Sighing, I sat next to him,feeling his calm envelope me. ‘ _ Ma serannas.’  _ I thanked, to which he chuckled in response, and with his arm around my waist pulled me close. ‘What?’ My cheeks flushed, feeling inexplicably embarrassed. 

‘It’s close enough,’ he whispered, face in my hair and breath hot on my neck. 

Pushing him away, I played a good game of looking offended. Although my hands never left his chest. ‘What do you mean close enough? You say it.’ 

‘ _ Ma serannas.’  _ He said flicking a finger downwards, then upwards and then across. ‘You missed the tones.’ 

‘ _ Ma serannas?’  _ My words sounded almost flat in comparison, which caused me to frown. 

Instead he took my right hand in his, and traced out the letters of  _ serannas,  _ the first time simply and the second time adding accent marks. ‘Can you read the difference?’

Grimacing, I shook my head.  _ We used the accent marks for secret codes, I have never once considered they may have a deeper meaning.  _ I looked out over the view,  _ so much was lost.  _ ‘Teach me?’ 

‘If you like.’ His hand snaked around my waist and down to my hip bone.

I flashed a glance at him, coy,  _ sweet man was not even a little subtle _ . ‘I love you.’ I tugged on his collar to pull him into a kiss. 

‘ _ Ar lath ma, vhenan _ .’ 

‘How do you say that, ar-lath-ma?’ My accent utterly butchered the words, my mouth failing to shape them in the way he did. 

‘I understood what you meant.’ 


	129. Vir Mythal’an

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lavellan and the gang have fought their way to the Temple of Mythal. Corypheus has beaten them there, but the gate is locked and the way is sealed. He shouldn’t be able to get in, right?

Crouched behind the little stone wall, hidden from Corypheus and his forces. If I had wanted to peer up over the obstacle, I couldn't. Solas had sheltered me from the explosion, his body over mine. He gave me a look, hard and dark, and moved away so I could take some of the danger on as my own. Morrigan was to my left, utterly ignoring us and focusing straight ahead. Her knuckles white around her staff. Beyond her Dorian was sat with his back against the wall, his head leaned back, breathing hard and wrapping a scrap of cloth around his upper arm. Tying the bandage one handed and knotting it with his teeth. 

I took the chance and twisted, pushing myself up to glance at the chaos before us. I sucked in a breath I had not expected that I would need. And sank back down, my mouth gaping like a fish out of water. My fingers reached up to my  _ vallaslin  _ and I turned my eyes towards the skies. Seeing Corypheus again, had not been unexpected. Seeing his general, equally unexpected.  _ The temple had been sealed shut,  _ Solas had told me,  _ the eluvians closed,  _ Morrigan had said - there were elves. In a semi-circle bows aimed. Splendid in golden armour, in a style utterly unlike anything that anyone in Thedas currently wore. A design that I had seen exactly once, in a dreamscape forest...

Looking left, I reached out for the only person that I knew could share my thoughts. Merrill looked at me, golden thread braided through her hair to give her the illusion of a crown. Her large green eyes settled on me, confusion on her features. ‘They’re Elvhen.’ I whispered. 

_ Elven, elvhen, elven, elvhen,  _ I watched as the extra syllable ruptured through her very world. She squinted at me, shaking her head. 

Next to her Marina swore under her breath and her hands were tense on her staff. And looked up. I followed her gaze, to see Corypheus, red shard torn creature that he was, take a step forward. Into the gates of the  _ Vir Mythal’an.  _ She was ready to strike, made a quick hand gesture,  _ patience, the dragon-faced Lady will not allow trespassers in her Temple.  _

‘Elvhen? This changes everything,’ Dorian muttered to no one in particular. Racking a hand through perfectly quaffed hair. He was looking a little green. 

‘It changes nothing,’ Morrigan cut across, voice low, she pushed forward to get a better look. 

_ It was over.  _ I thought was a knowledge that I felt within my bones. The dragon statues roared to life, blue magic electric crackled throughout the glassy obsidian statues.  _ It was all over. Corypheus would be destroyed and the world wouldn’t be in danger anymore-  _

Corypheus reached out for one of the elvhen that had ventured too close, clasping him up within his hideous claws. Plucking him into the air and shaking the ancient one as though he was a child’s rattle. The golden plate armour twisted under the corrupting grip, clattered with a sickening sound. Merrill sent me a horrified glance, and Marina wrapped a protective arm around her. 

The elvhen hit the ground with a sickening clash. Immortality snuffed out in an instance. But Corypheus was still standing, his body racked with the blue lightning, shaking and convulsing and each of his muscles contorting. The remaining elvhen, guardians of the temple backed away. Their bows still aimed deadly forward. But I was close enough to see the fear on each of their faces.  _ It was not over.  _

I shuffled over to Merrill, ‘if those are elvhen,  _ lethallan _ , are you with me?’

_ ‘Lethallan _ ? Yes, I suppose we do.’ She replied giving me a long look and took my hand in hers. 

I blinked at her strange answer, but took the affirmative for what it was.  _ She was with me.  _ I looked up, praying for some kind of guidance, but all I could see were the dancing reflections of the water splashed across the rock that overhung us. 

**Crack** .

An ear splitting noise, ripped through my thoughts and echoed across the valley. The two obsidian dragons had cracked in unison. Split into shattered fragments that crumbled, dropped and splashed into the waters. ‘Still not worried?’ I hissed Solas, who only offered me a blank look. 

He crouched next to me, ‘He should not be powerful enough to do that.’ 

‘Clearly he is.’ I shot back. 

The creature that was Corypheus, had likewise crumbled, skin melting in on itself, the red lyrium shards that stuck in his skin dropped to the ground like caprice coins in an Orlesian fountain. The remaining elvhen had backed away, retreating to the temple proper, pursued by Corypheus’ remaining generals who hadn’t even blinked after the loss of their master. 

‘It looks like we are going in after all,’ I said, standing and brushing my hands off. ‘Gods be good,’ I walked steadily towards what had been the vir Mythal’an, with more confidence than I felt I took a breath and took a step forward. Half expecting to be vapourised, I let out a grateful prayer when I was still standing. 

Of the group, it was only Solas who didn’t falter as they crossed the  _ vir Mythal’an _ . He offered no prayers or pleas to any gods, just walked forward confident that he would be unharmed. Though, I found a prayer on my lips on his behalf. And I found myself drawn to him the moment I knew he was safe. 

‘Did you hear what he was saying?’ Merrill asked as she crossed the boundary line, ‘that the elvhen would protect the  _ vir’abelasan _ ?’ Merrill asked as she picked up a small obsidian fragment and examining it and then when she thought I wasn’t looking pocketed it. 

The words were already in my mouth to correct her, when I saw Morrigan snap to attention. Her yellow eyes flashed and she started walking purposefully across the bridge. 

‘Looks like the Magpie’s spotted something shiny.’ Marina said after her back in a stage whisper loud that I was sure that Morrigan could hear. 

‘Wait, Morrigan-‘ I began, but I wasn’t entirely sure what I was going to say. We needed to come up with a new plan, we needed more information. 

She spun around, ‘they are after the Well of Sorrows.’ 

‘What’s the Well of Sorrows?’ 

‘Powerful,’ she murmured and pulled her black hair up into a knot at the base of her neck. Her staff clicking against the ground with each alternate step. 

I crossed my arms over my chest and reluctantly following her,  _ we’d be looting after all. Mother Mythal forgive us.  _ ‘And what about the _eluvian_?’

I never got an answer, ‘ _kaffas_ ,’ Dorian swore, ‘Hellana!’ He called, voice high and worried. I twisted back to see a fallen body climbing back to life. I glanced at Dorian, wondering what the necromancer was playing at, but he was staring at it in abject horror. 

The body rose up from the floor, as though it was a puppet pulled by invisible strings, its arms extending and becoming claws which swiped angrily through the air. 

‘Is that-‘

‘Run!’ 

‘To the temple!’


	130. Supplicant's Path

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Taking their first steps in the Temple of Mythal, Lavellan and the gang first themselves having to answer some questions. There is a path to be walked, will they take the correct route?

My chest was burning, lungs on fire, heart hammering. Fear and focus fought in my head, and I shook from sprinting across the bridge to get away from Corypheus. Without resting Morrigan and I pushed the heavy ironwood doors of the temple together, in a burst of silver light that scattered fine dust around us, the doors had closed. But I knew it wouldn’t hold. On the other side I could already hear frantic snarling and Corypheus’ claws scraping against the ironwood door. If it was simple wood, the creature who wished himself a god would already be through. But, the wood pulsed with magics that was utterly unfamiliar to me.

On shaky legs, I stood. The temple was nothing like any ruin I had ever been in, precisely because it was not a ruin. It was sterile, immaculate, untouched by the ravages of time. _Empty._ There was no trace of the people that had come before us. Perfect mosaic tiles adorned the floors and walls, with lines of gold dripping through the tiles, like golden blood pumping through the veins of this place. 

Merrill was already on her feet, a delicate hand reached out, poised an inch from the wall, she licked her lips before she touched it. She gasped, and turned to Marina, ‘it’s cold.’ She whispered. 

‘Which way do we go?’ Dorian asked, his jaw tight and an unhappy frown on his face as he turned to the left and right, there was no way ahead only two seemingly endless tunnels that could take us left or right. They curved around and I could picture them as the walkways wrapping around the first tier of the Temple.

Morrigan for once had nothing to say. Instead she flashed a spell into the air, it fizzled out and dropped as dust to the ground. She tried again with the same result. 

‘Hold,’ I said, waving a hand out to her. And she flashed me an unhappy look with yellow eyes. 

I noticed Solas was looking up, at two mosaic murals places into the ceiling. Each showing one of the moons. _Mythal had create a moon, our myth told us. But only one._  

‘Thief!’ Corypheus bellowed from behind the door, it clattered forward, but held. ‘You will be destroyed.’

The door battered again, but still held. Rubbing eyes, I tried to remember. Sil had told the story often, he had loved telling the story and debating till he was blue in the face where the other moon had come from. What was the name of the one Mythal created? _Satina!_ I found the mural with the larger of the two moons of Thedas. I nodded, ‘we go left.’ And I lead the way down corridor. I resisted the urge to sprint along the tunnel, knowing I had no idea how long the journey would be. It could wrap the entire way around the temple, miles. A fast walk was all we could spare to save our energy. 

‘A labyrinth,’ Morrigan noted, as we came to another junction, ‘t’was a good guess Inquisitor.’

‘Guess.’ I hissed under my breath, and tried to ignore the outrage bubbling under my skin, _we didn’t have time to fight_. Instead I looked up, but found no murals. 

‘Here,’ Merrill whispered, as she stood in the exact centre of the three-fold path. I stood behind her and saw the pattern, the golden threads that had seemed like simple decoration reached across the walls and floors to create two separate images. Twisting patterns like the lines of _vallaslin_ carving their way across the path. The one on the left showed a dragon in flight, while the one on the right showed a female elf crowned. 

‘What is Mythal?’ I considered aloud, trying to think, _dragon or queen?_

‘The ancient elves believed she was a goddess of justice,’ Morrigan cut across, beginning to walk along the path of the crowned woman. Her staff tapping along the ground as she moved, and outstretched hand running her fingers along the cold tiled wall. 

From behind her back, I shook my head and pointed to my face. Dorian snorted and tried to over it with a cough. Marina’s mouth was aghast and Merrill covered her face with her hands. 

‘That’s very helpful, thank you.’ I called after her, with a disapproving shake of my head, _typical shem._ ‘Dragon or queen?’ I said to Merrill. 

Her brows were knitted together, she gave Marina a complicated look. ‘Dragon, I think.’ 

 _I agreed,_ ‘Morrigan!’ I called, and pointing down the alternative path, ‘we’re going this way.’

She turned on her heel, yellow cat-like eyes flashing in the covered gloom. ‘You are sure?’ 

‘Inquisitor’s intuition,’ I shrugged and resisted the urge to flash her a rude _shem_ gesture. . 

Marina laughed loudly, and slapped me on the back. The sound echoed down the twisting empty corridors. 

Walking down the next corridor, I came to the odd realisation that it was light enough to see. But there were no windows, no torches on the wall. It was almost as though the walls were thin enough to let the sunlight filter through. But it was getting darker, and the ground was sloping gently upwards. I swallowed hard, and tried to steady myself. We had not yet caught up with Corypheus’ forces, nor had we run into any more elvhen. As the dark engulfed us, the golden twisted lines began to glow with a faint silver light, growing across the walls like ancient roots. ‘Lyrium?’ I heard Dorian ask, bewildered and asstounded. 

‘Don’t touch it,’ I heard Marina snap, followed by the slap of skin, and then Dorian’s annoyed huff. 

‘Was it like this before?’ I asked Solas, dropping back a pace to walk next to him. 

He gave me a curious look, he looked sharper somehow in the pale silver light. ‘No, the labyrinth changes to the needs of the walker.’ 

‘The temple’s magics are still strong, it appears,’ Morrigan noted, ‘that is a good sign. Following the path would behoved supplicants to Mythal.’

‘So that is what we are?’ I said, feeling a calm that I had not felt for a long while, ‘we are supplicants?’ I felt her, Mythal, the _dragon-faced lady,_ the numinous settling in my skin.  

Merrill touched my hand, ‘we are.’ She affirmed. I nodded to her, as though we had touched foreheads. _We were the Dalish, the last of the elvhan returning, with respect and reverence_. 

The path forked again, this time, there was a ritual pool to the right. Barely ankle deep, but being filled with trickling waters that fell from an unseen spot high above. To the left, there was a small bridge. 

Morrigan crouched by the water, and had her hand it in before anyone could tell her to be careful. She picked her hand up, and twisted the liquid between her hand, her tongue darted out and she spat. 

My hands we cletched into fists at my side and I considered strangling her then and there. 

‘Salt water?’ she questioned, without turning round to see my ire. 

 _Mother Mythal’s mercy, Morrigan had inadvertently given us the clue_ . Turning my face upwards, I couldn’t help the smile that spread across my face, _from the sea. ‘_ Through the pool.’ 

Dorian protested the condition of his boots. I was tempted to tell him to wait for us here, but decided not to dignify his complain. I stepped carefully through the pool, and took the steps upwards on the other side. 

In front of us, a bricked up archway crumpled, dissolving to reveal a wide courtyard. Trees older than anyone in Thedas reached outwards, older than nearly anyone, I correct. In front of us was a raised platform, flanked by two dragon statues. In the centre was a large carved stele, circular and covered with glyphs. 

‘At last, Mythal’s sanctum.’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fenhello - you mentioned a while back I should make use of Mythal's mythology only mentioning the creation of one moon, it was a little nod, but I hope it was everything you hoped for haha! :D


	131. Knock Three Times

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Continuing to press through the Temple of Mythal, Lavellen and the gang find that Morrigan isn't being the best tour guide. In the distance they can hear explosions as Corypheus' forces try to blow themselves a path to the Well of Sorrows, time is running out.

The courtyard was wilder than the tunnels, plants and trees grew tightly packed in the little space. It was as though there had been a garden here, but it had been centuries since it had been taken care of. The paving stones that wove their way through ancient flower beds were still in a pristine state of repair, recently scrubbing and gleaming in the gentle sunlight that filtered into the sanctum. I did nothing but stop for a moment to drink in the moment, and the moment was shattered as Morrigan has already stode ahead, pacing forward with an unrelenting pace towards the erected stele, her hand tracing over the elvhen glyphs. 

‘There is mention of the Well of Sorrows.’

‘Which you didn’t mention before now, did you?’ Marina countered, tapped her nails against the wood on her staff. 

Morrigan rounded on her, ‘does it bring you joy to hear that I was wrong?’ 

Marina chewed for a moment as though there was a sour taste in her mouth, then she wrinkled her nose at Morrigan, ‘yes, in fact.’ 

‘Don’t fight-’

**Boom.**

The sound of stone tearing itself apart ripped through the little courtyard, echoing across the ancient tiled walls. My stomach dropped and my hand flew to my neck, my eyes darting upwards, _please gods tell me they are not tearing the Temple apart?_ Merrill made a tortured sound and I tried to say something reassuring, say anything. But my words were caught in my throat. 

‘Gaatlok,’ Dorian said darkly from behind us. 

No one said anything for a moment. I was reticent to run blindly ahead, it went against my every instinct to run directly toward the explosion. But we couldn’t stay in the courtyard. Gritting my teeth, I pressed forward, ‘let’s go.’ 

Taking the lead I walked forward, along the large paving slabs, warn by the footsteps of previous supplicants. I took a short flight of stairs and recoiled in horror. Draping my body over the rail, it was everything I could do to simply not sit on the ground and refuse to take another step future. There at the top of the stairs where two broken bodies, lying in a pool of their own blood. Dressed in ancient golden armour, _ancestors,_ the voice in my head screamed _._ I could barely catch my breath. 

A hand touched my shoulder, ‘hey, hey,’ it was Dorian, soothing as ever.

‘They’re-‘ I began, but couldn’t finish. 

Morrigan stepped up, nudging one of the dead elvhen with her toe, ‘even immortals die.’ Her tone carried as callus. I felt my fingers twitch towards my blade, _I’d gut her here on the temple steps. What an offering to Mythal._

The strike came without warning, quick and sharp and cross my face. Shocking me away from anything so rash, it was Marina. Who had pushed past Dorian. ‘You were losing it.’ She said sharply, and shook her hand in the air, ‘damn girl, did you polish your cheekbones?’ 

‘I-‘ I started, but couldn’t finish. Her love was tough, but true. _I could not afford to break down now, and how many mortals had I killed? There was enough blood staining my hands that I should not dare baulk at two single slain._ ‘ _Ma serannas.’_ I whispered. 

Marina shook her head, ‘don’t thank me.’ 

Doing my very best to simply look forward, to ignore the situation before me. To pretend this was a world where everything was simply _fine_. It’s fine, I told myself, it’s fine. Or at least it will be, and that was the scrap of hope that I was clinging to. 

 

We must have walked another mile, through more ruined gardens with perfect paving slabs. Ever wrapping, every winding slowly upwards. Carefully making our way through the tiers of the Orlesian marriage cake, though I knew the icing on the top would not be so sweet for us.  

I no longer had the heart to lead the way, and found myself almost grateful that Morrigan had taken up the mantle of guide. She had been whittling incoherent and half-truths to Dorian, describing various murals and decoration as she went. I focused purely on her sheer audacity, to take my mind from everything else, from the slaughtered ancients we met along the way. I tried not to think about how much we could have learnt from them, how painfully important they were, only to find their fate at the end of a false god’s blade.

For his part, Dorian was listening intently, while shooting me disbelieving looks every time Morrigan turned her back. Though I could hear simply from his voice he was getting tired of her. 

 _Another inaccuracy and I would intervene, I promised myself and Dorian silently._ ‘A dead end,’ Morrigan announced, turning a corner before we did. But she surprised me, by not simply turning around. She continued walking along the path, Merrill flashed me a worried look and I hurried forward, only to stop dead.  

There before us was a gently resting statue of Fen’Harel. The Wolf’s large stone eyes, watched my darkly, unblinking. I gave the statue a nod. It was less of a dead end and more of a small sanctuary, closed off from the rest of the temple. 

The Witch glared at him, a scowl across her face. ‘But why would _this_ be here? Setting Fen’Harel in Mythal’s greatest sanctum is a blasphemous as painting Andraste naked in the chantry.’

As interesting as her question might have been, it was hardly the time nor the place. Ignoring the dark stone eyes watching, I darted my Hunter’s eyes around the little sanctuary, it was as immaculate as the rest of the temple. The place had been given as much respect as the rest of the temple. Of all of the things that I knew, this depiction was not considered blasphemous then, and it was hardly now. Maybe the purists would exchange disdainful looks away from the open sky. But no Dalish would dare insult the god to his face.  

‘ _Oh no_ ,’ Merrill hissed behind me. 

‘Is it?’ Dorian said, with a bored expression, and studied the nails of his right hand, before flicking his fingers out in an irritated gesture. ‘Horny Orlesians have already depicted the lady with her kit off, said to be quite the religious experience, if you’re into that kind of thing.’

And then without even acknowledge that Dorian has spoken, Morrigan was away again in a flash of black and maroon. 

Behind her back, Merrill was gesticulating wildly at me, and I found my hands flying panicked in response. _Fenedhis,_ ‘you go. I’ll deal with this.’ I whispered to her. She nodded, and went running after the Witch. ‘Go,’ I added with a wave to the rest of the group, ‘I’ll catch up.’ 

I rubbed at my eyes, and tried to settle myself, scrap together some semblance of calm. I approached the resting wolf, and touched my fingers to my _vallaslin._ As I was trying to figure out the best words to express our apology, a hand touched the small of my back. 

‘Please, Inquisitor, I believe this is unnecessary.’ Solas said, looking straight past me at the statue.

**Boom.**

Another explosion rolled through the stone, this time it was close enough that I felt the shockwave. 

‘You believe what you like,’ I snapped back. Turning away from him, irritated that he’d called me Inquisitor. _Perhaps to tell me I had a different duty,_ that awfully traitorous part of my mind offered. 

‘We do not have time, and you are doing it wrong.’ Solas snapped back, matching my venom, but the moment the words were out of his mouth he regretted it. ‘Forgive me, I should not have said that.’ He shook his head, and began moving away. 

‘Doing what wrong?’ I asked, having to take my steps quickly to keep up with his longer pace. ‘Solas.’ I demanded, grabbing for his hand to make him face me. 

‘We do not have time for these games.’ He replied curtly. 

 _I could not believe him, ‘_ you brought it up, tell me or I’m staying here.’ I dropped his hand, and lent against the wall, arms crossed over my chest, raising my eyebrows expectantly at him.

His jaw was tight, and I watched as he considered simply walking away. ‘You are praying incorrectly,’ his voice was tight, _angry?_

‘I-’ _I had nothing to say_. He pulled my hands forward, fingers together, bending my arms at the elbow so that my palms were facing forward just on either side of my face. He took a step back, glanced over my once, and pulled my right hand forward a few inches. Then he gave me a sharp nod and turned on his heel. 

‘What,’ I called, pushing my hands back against my face, ‘are you sure?’ 

He stopped, and I saw his fingers curl into fists for a moment, he turned back. ‘I am sure that you do not touch your _vallaslin.’_

‘And you know this because you’ve seen?’ I asked, reeling at the revelation. _How much had he seen in the fade?_

Pressing his palms flat against his tights and not looking at me, he nodded. Then he glanced up and cringed and reached out to pull my arms down, trapping my arms at my side, ‘I have seen this performed by elvhen beyond counting.’ 

I let out a little awed sigh, and then I shook my head, smiling despite myself, ‘and you didn’t think to tell me before now?’ 

Some of his tension had dissipated, instead he just seemed tired.  ‘Would you have believed me?’ He queried, softly. As though he wasn’t sure he wanted to hear the answer. The tight line of his shoulders dropped a little. 

I scoffed, _of course I would have. Actually,_ I gave him a coy look, ‘maybe.’ I settled on the most honest answer. I looked back at the statue. Then back to Solas, and a new question nagged at me, _how much had he seen in the fade, and how much was he keeping from me?_

‘Vhenan, we cannot waste anymore time here.’ He gave me a look and I knew he was asking me to trust him, _and I did. Of course I did._  

I let out and breath and followed him back away from the sanctuary, feeling the Dread Wolf’s eyes on my back. 

 

As we turned the corner, I heard Morrigan’s voice carrying. ‘And Dalish clans give offerings to Andruil before they hunt humans- ouch!’ Morrigan exclaimed snatching Marina’s hand. ‘Why would you do that?’ 

It appeared the Champion of Kirkwall had pinched her, ‘sorry,’ Marina shrugged, ‘just checking you were for real.’ 

‘Oh shut up,’ Solas snapped at the Witch, and I didn’t even bother to hide my grin. 

She opened her mouth to retort. 

**Boom.**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is actually one of the first scenes that I envisioned before I started writing this - and it's only taken me however many months, however many chapters to get here!!  
> I just want to say a massive massive thank you to everyone who is still reading, you guys are the best!! <3


	132. At a Crossroads

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lavellan and the gang have escaped the temple of Mythal, with the knowledge of the Well of Sorrows. Though Lavellan finds herself weighed down by a crueler knowledge, Abelas' words echo through her head. How can her faith stand this new test?

The  _ elvuian _ closed, locked and bolted. Shattered glass fell from the now empty wooden frame. Jaggest shards spread across cracked paving slabs, sticking up from the cracks where slim yellowing weeds sprouted. I twisted back in horror, the last image of the temple was burnt across my eyes, the sight of Corypheus snarling, his generals dead, bleeding out on the pristeen tiles, the Well of Sorrows empty. 

_ ‘You are permitted to depart, and never return.’  _

_I could never go back._ To have to briefly found a part of myself, then to have it torn away and to know that it was forever out of reach was almost too much to bare. I found myself hitting the wooden board with my fists until the bones in my arms ached, until my fists split and bleed, until Solas wrapped his arms around mine and dragged me away. I struggled against him till, I broke free and found my energy was spent and I collapsed on the dusty ground, without tears to cry, without screams to break the sky itself, without any real will to carry on. My pride in torn tatters at my feet. Rage and hate and sheer spite brought my to push myself up from the ground. I sat back against the broken _eluvian._ My throat was raw. My chest ached. 

Merrill was near me having her own crisis, curled against a kneeling Marina, clutching her hair in her tight fists as she moaned softly. Marina was trying her best to protect her, but her butterfly hands could not sooth the millennia of secrets now taking root inside Merrill’s head. Merrill had walked into the Well of Sorrows, the prize snatched from the Magpie by the question that I’d asked them both. ‘What does the  _ vir’abelasan  _ mean?’ Morrigan had told me it was simply a repository for ancient knowledge. While Merrill told me a fuller truth, it was more accurately an Apologia, each High Priest had recounted all of their actions, expectations and decisions. It was a repository of course, and it was an excuse. To keep the Well from the grasping hands of a  _ shem  _ such as Morrigan.

I couldn’t imagine the voices in her head, mine was filled only with the echoes of Abelas heartless, heartfelt words. He was elvhen, the sentinel of Mythal, inexplicably still alive. An elf, taller than most, wearing brilliant green  _ vallaslin  _ that matched my own in design. The twisting branches fanned across both of our foreheads, no roots to speak of. Exactly the same as my own. I could have walked through sixty clans and not found a pattern so similar, and yet. We were nothing to him. 

_ ‘You are shadows in the forest wearing  _ vallaslin.’

He had stood above us and cast down his judgement in Mythal's place. His judgement was so simple I couldn’t breath, _ that the Dalish were unworthy, that the Dalish were not the last of his kind _ . We were simply shadows, fading imperfect replicas that merely looked a little alike. But they didn’t want us, didn’t want our help, didn’t want our protection. The disappointment, the betrayal and the rejection stung as though he’d stabbed me. I wished he had stabbed me, it would hurt less. 

When he spoke down to us, I found Merrill stood by me, her hand in mine. Grip firm and we stood defiant against a man who  _ was not our goddess _ . But then, we had thought her still breathing beyond the veil, answering our whispered prayers. Little did we know, she was gone. Turned to ash so many centuries ago. 

_ ‘Fen’Harel had nothing to do with her murder.’ _

In our careless confidence we believed ourselves the reclaimers of a forgetting path. Our stupid, broken, foolish  _ Dalish superstition.  _ Too many questions battered around my brain. How many of our people had their faces carved for her? How could she have saved me from the Winter Palace if she was gone? Did gods walk the path of Falon’Din? 

_ ‘Fen’Harel had nothing to do with her murder.’ _

We had never suggested that he had, there wasn’t even a scrap of a story whispered hidden from the open skies. Nothing in all of our wide and varied warnings of him, nothing. But Abelas had made the point clear as day. I’d seen Solas double take, the damned purist. He’d barely blinked when we discovered Mythal to be long gone- but. I wanted to scream. I didn’t dare look at him.  _ He knew, the absolute bastard, he knew she was dead. He must have known, and he let me believe anyway.  _

‘I know this part of the Crossroads, stay close, t’is easy to get lost.’ Morrigan announced, using her nail to smooth down one of the feathers that adorned her shoulder. She was unfazed by the events of the day. Unbothered by losing the prize of the Well. 

‘We’re not coming with you.’ Merrill gasped, Marina helped her sit. ‘My mirror, it’s nearby, I’m going to take it back.’ She gave Marina a sharp glance, as though daring her to disagree. 

I considered offering to come with her, but decided against it.  _ I needed to return to being Inquisitor, my army was probably still battling against Corypheus’ forces, trying to buy me time in a Temple I had left.  _ ‘Meet back at Skyhold, two weeks.’ 

Marina nodded, and gave me a tired wink, ‘wouldn’t miss it.’ She helped her bondmate to stand. 

‘Come on ‘Rina,’ Merrill said, pointing the direction they had to go. To my utter disbelief Marina began walking in the wrong direction. ‘No, this way.’ Again, Marina couldn’t seem to walk in the right direction. Merrill gave her a concerned glance, and grabbed her hand dragging her off the right way. 

‘And what was that about?’ Dorian asked, he looked tired. 

‘The Crossroads don’t make sense to non-elves.’ Morrigan said, giving him a knowing incomprehensible look. She didn’t say elvhen, she said elves. When we first walked into the Temple, I could never had guessed I would get any validation from Morrigan. 

Dorian’s eyes raked over the Witch, ‘so what are you?’ He shifted on the spot, clearly a little uncomfortable and passed his staff between his hands. 

Her yellow eyes turned on him, she gave him a knowing smirk, and then smoothed down the feathers on her shoulder with slim fingers, ‘I did tell you, t’is easy to get lost.’ 

_ Mother Mythal, I need _ \- my hands sneaked up, unbidden to my face and I dropped them. Was there any point in still praying to Mythal? I needed to speak to my mother, maybe there was some secrets the Keepers kept from the rest of us? Maybe she could explain this? Maybe… too many maybes. I was desperate for a hot bath and despite everything, I needed a night by my shrine. Grimmly, I found a reserve of energy and pushed myself to my feet, refusing Solas’ offer of help to stand. I still couldn’t find it in me to look at him. ‘Lead the way, then.’ 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note on translation - 
> 
> Vir'abelasan - Apologia (which isn't correct outside of this fic)
> 
> This turned up from my notes, when I noted down that 'Ir Abelas' meant 'I apologise', rather than 'I'm sorry.' So in this fic 'Abelas', goes down the etymological route of apology rather than sorrow, and enjoy all the tiny differences that makes! - My favourite one being that it means the name Abelas would probably translate more as 'Defender' rather than 'Sorrow.' Which still fits, so yay!


	133. Little Jobs

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lavellan and the gang return to Skyhold, she needs to get a message back to those she's left in the Arbor Wilds and let her Keeper know what's happened.

Stepping through the mirror in the little room by Mother Giselle's chantry, I had left the little group immediately, not waiting for the other three to follow me. I strode away, hearing Dorian tumble through as the door slammed behind me. Being back in Skyhold felt odd, for it was practically empty. It was eerily quiet without the sounds of the army drilling in the courtyards below. Without the Inquisitor the endless throngs of visiting nobles and dignitaries had vacated, leaving the Main Keep clear of all by a couple of maids, sweeping their way back and forth on various errands. Neither of them recognised me as I passed. 

Without a delay, I found my way through the rotunda, past the library and up by Leliana’s empty desk. She was on the battlefield. As I was moving papers out of the way to find quill and ink, one of her agents came over. ‘Can I help you?’ He asked in a tone that made it abundantly clear, he was not here simply to help.  

‘Yes, I’m-’ I recognised him and dropped the pile I papers I was holding. They spilled across the desk, tumbling out of order. ‘Mice?’ I said, recognising the man that had spied against us. 

He stepped back, look of horror on his face, before he was able to school himself. ‘Inquisitor, you shouldn’t be back yet.’

‘I am.’ I said sharply, and glanced over the balcony and around the rookery. I spotted two guards, and felt a little more secure. He couldn’t run. ‘What are you doing here.’ 

His teeth scraped over his bottom lip as he considered, then he grabbed the top of my arm, pulling me closer so he could hiss in my ear, ‘I’m one of the Nightingale’s birds.’ I raised my eyebrows, and gave him a withering look. He released me immediately, seeming to realise his mistake. ‘She recruited me, please don’t blow my cover.’ 

I considered calling the guard anyway, the safest option was to simply lock him away until Leliana could come back and tell me the truth one way or the other. But, it didn’t seem overly fair. ‘Help me find something to write, I need to send messages.’ 

He nodded, and began pulling the materials out with a practised hand. If he had been bluffing,  _ surely he wouldn’t know where everything was? _ ‘I’m sorry about what almost happened to your clan,’ he offered quietly, trying to keep his tone light. ‘We were trying to find out what Celene was up to.’ 

‘Why were you stealing our letters?’ I asked, my voice a whisper to match. 

Mice glanced around the room, and seemed to decide it was empty enough. ‘There is always a pile of fake correspondence left about, and I was being watched.’ 

‘Watched by who?’ 

He simply shook his head, ‘what we’re trying to find out.’ Then he froze as a  _ shem  _ approached the table. 

‘What are you doing Nugs?’ She snapped at Mice. ‘Who is this?’ When I raised my left hand, she snapped into a salute, ‘begging your pardon, your Worship, we didn’t expect you back for three more weeks.’ 

‘Change of plans,’ I muttered, then looked up at Mice, ‘Nugs?’

He gave me a careless smile, ‘’cause my ears are like Nugs’’.

‘Right,’ I said, nodding as though it made sense. ‘Do excuse me while I get these letters written.’ 

The  _ shem  _ agent nodded, and clicked her heels together, before shooing Mice-Nugs, whatever his name was away. I watched them go, before shaking my head and scribbling out quick messages using the developed elvish code;

_ -At Skyhold - safe - left temple - du Lion - one week- _

I copied the message out twice, in case one of the birds got lost or shot down on the way to the Arbor Wilds. I handed the notes over to the agent, who was watching MIce a little irritatedly. ‘Excuse him, your Worship, he’s new, head full of sawdust mostly.’ 

Ignoring her comments, I simply left with a, ‘do find me the moment when I get a reply.’ 

 

Solas was already sat behind his desk, flicking through some papers, he looked up when I entered the rotunda. ‘Vhenan, I-’

‘Did you know?’ I asked, cutting across what he was about you say. ‘Did you know she was dead?’ 

He considered me for a long moment, his hands clasped together on top of the papers he was working on, ‘Yes, I knew that-’

‘Why didn’t you tell me? At least warn me?’ I crossed my arms over my chest, and glared daggers at him. He didn’t say anything for half a hundred heartbeats, just looked down and twisted his fingers together, he opened his mouth twice, but seemed to think better of it. I sighed, ‘my love, find me when you have a good answer.’ I left the room, letting the thick wooden door shut with a bang. 

 

It was two hours later, and I found myself flat on my back against the solid wooden slabs. Above me, I could faintly make out the twisted loops of the boards of the floor of Deshanna’s  _ araval.  _ We were tucked into the little space between the bow of the  _ araval  _ and the wooden boards that made up the floor. This space was usually used for storage, but could when needs must be used to speak away from the open sky. Since it took time to clear out the hollow space, it had sprung the phrase ‘ _ to speak under the boards _ ,’ meaning something that is deadly serious. 

Deshanna had been surprised enough when I had returned from the Temple early, which had only grown into deep worry once I’d told her we needed to speak under the boards. I had done most of the work in clearing out the space, which at this point hadn’t had long enough to acclimate decades worth of junk and was simply a matter of pulling out the clans spare blankets. I had helped her climb into the space, and followed her, snapping the little trap door closed behind me. Then, carefully, I recounted what happened. 

Resisting the urge to touch the rough planks, as I would only shake loose a dusting of sawdust, I waited. Deshanna had barely spoken during my recount of the events, only interrupting twice to clarify. The silence had become deafening once I’d begun describing Abelas, and somehow worse once I told her what he said. Usually meetings under the boards were made in darkness, but my hand illuminated the area in a sickly green light.

‘You’re sure.’ My mother asked, her face was turned to study me with warm deep brown eyes. 

‘He told me she was murdered, unprompted.’ I added.

She sighed deeply, ‘there are no whispers of this, not even fragments hidden under the boards.’ 

‘If we tell the clans, it will cause chaos.’ I whispered. ‘Can I tell Sil?’ 

‘Would anything I say stop you,  _ da’len? _ ’ 

I laughed, ‘I would prefer your permission, Keeper.’ 

Her hand patted mine affectionately, ‘of course, he can keep a secret.’ She twisted some of the large beaded jewelry that she wore, ‘another secret we keep.’ She whispered into the air, a phrase not really meant for me. Then she turned suddenly, ‘the  _ Arlathvhen _ is in a month,’ she said, ‘I can try to make some subtle inquiries then.’

‘A month? Already? Where has the time gone?’ 

She clicked her tongue against her teeth, ‘you’ve been asked to come.’ 

_ But I wasn’t important enough to - but then I noticed the green light illuminating from my hand.  _


	134. An Offering to Mythal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lavellan is still trying to deal with the death of Mythal. And she does it in the healthiest way possible - and almost gets hypothermia in the process.

I picked up the little statue in my hands, taking it carefully off my shrine and holding it delicately in my hands.  _ It was so light, carved in wood and painted brightly. _ It was the first one that I had gotten after the Breach, it had miraculously survived the fall of Haven. My fingers traced over Mythal’s dragon wings, the detail extending out from her body. Tiny little notches decorated the wings indicating scales. She held aloft Satina, the moon she had formed, a pale yellow orb in her hands.  _ How do I mourn a goddess already gone? If I pray loud enough will she come back?  _ I shook my head at the thought, which was painfully Andrastian. With a grimace I set the gaudy statue done on the stone railing and took out the note that the agent from the rookery has given me. I cracked the letter open and skimmed the page;

_ \- dragon - fled - battle - won - meet - Skyhold -  _

_ Good _ , for the moment it was over. I glanced up at the statue, old habits died hard, I had to make my thanks. I paused for a single moment before deciding I would continue on as before, dead or not, this was my goddess.  _ She would not be taken from me.  _ Yet, I paused again as my hands reached up for my  _ vallaslin _ , fingertips hovering over the carved lines, and I twisted my palms around instead. Talking some of the knowledge I had learned from the temple and adapting it for my own purposes.

‘For what it is worth, my dragon-faced lady, great Mother Mythal, I thank you.’ I address the little statue. Pale blue waves frozen at her feet. ‘For letting me see the splendour of your temple, for getting me through safely, for the knowledge-‘ I broke off as my voice cracked. The wind picked up, cold as biting as ever. Tiny flakes of snow floating down about me. In a flash of rage I grabbed the statue and made to throw it, let it tumble down the mountain side. But as it was in my hands instead, I clutched it to me and slumped off my knees to the side. And placed it down gently, head hung in shame. 

 

It was there Solas found me, as the dark had settled around me, the stars twinkled on regardless. As he crouched beside me, whispering words I couldn’t hear, I reached for him with fingers blue and long gone numb. Frozen tear tracks running down my  _ vallaslin _ , I was marked for a goddess that was long gone. 

Without another word, he bundled me inside, face tight and eyes dark. A chastisement upon his features, but let unspoken. He wrapped his fur around my shoulders and brought me to the sofa, sat next to me. His hands over both of mine, so warm in comparison they felt like they were burning hot. As I began to warm up, my extremities stung with the heat burn. I hadn’t realised I had gotten so cold, I hadn’t even been planning on coming in anytime soon. I planned to spend the night in silent vigil...

‘I understand,’ I said finally, the words tearing out of me before I could stop them, ‘I understand why you couldn’t tell me.’ Because it had broken my heart into shards to report my findings to my mother. To see the shock and shame written across her warm eyes, even in the green tinged dark. I had seen the simple understanding between us that this new, old turth couldn’t get out it would break the clans - a final black mark against the Dalish.  _ Was I worthy enough to cause that much suffering, doubt and despair? _

Sagging against him, and resting my head against his chest, I felt my eyelids getting heavy. The weight of my tiredness overwhelming me. He smelt of old books, and ink and the smokey summery scent of home. 

‘ _ Ir abelas, vhenan,’  _ he breathed, against my hair. And I knew he wasn’t sorry for not telling me, he was sorry for the weight of the secret he had held, that we both kept now. 

‘Least Morrigan didn’t get the Well.’ I said sleepily. And felt him tense beneath me. It startled me back to some semblance of consciousness. Looking up, I brushed loose hairs out of my face to see him better. And dropped my unmarked hand against his chest, flat and firm. 

His jaw was still tight, eyes closed, but then he sighed and tilted his head to look down at me. ‘And in exchange Merrill has sworn herself to an ancient god.’ The bitter tinge was unmistakable in his tone. 

_ Sworn for an ancient god, Mythal was --  _ ‘Merrill was named for Mythal, she’s smarter than she looks, and stronger.’ I said, pushing myself up, sitting firm with more confidence than I felt,  _ she’ll be fine,  _ I told myself, the words echoing around my head, until I believed it. ‘She wouldn’t have done it if she didn’t feel safe.’  _ Well,  _ she  _ might have, Marina would have stopped her though. Wouldn’t she?  _ Glancing up again at to Solas for reassurance, I found none. Just the same tight, worried lip. He said nothing, not a word, not a sigh. ‘What is it, my love?’ I asked so softly that when he didn't immediately react I wasn’t sure I had spoken. 

Instead, he slipped a hand up the back of my neck, to angle my head up. I expected a kiss, but instead he simply pressed his forehead against mine. For the moment we shared the same air. My face burned, as it always did, but tonight it was oddly soothing. The fire setting my skin alight. His nose booped against my own, and drew back. ‘I have no right to ask for your forgiveness,  _ vhenan _ ,’ he murmured. 

I searched his face for some understand, and found just a dumb regret.  _ Had he wanted to tell me of Mythal?  _ I took his face in my hands and waited, for a handful of seconds until he finally relented and looked at me, his crystalline dark eyes flicking up uncertainly to mine, ‘you have it, always.’ I said. 

He closed his eyes and pulled from my grip. Shaking his head a little, almost imperceivably. As though he just couldn’t believe me. 

I frowned, but didn’t have it in me to fight him on this. Instead I tucked my face into the crook of his neck, he shifted under me jostling us a little. I pressed my lips to his neck, feeling the pulse under my tongue. ‘We’re alive, does anything else matter for tonight?’ 

‘For tonight,’ he questioned in such a way I knew he wasn’t really asking, he pulled the fur tight around the both of us, his hand touching briefly on my hip before it moved up to my waist, ‘no, nothing else matters.’ 


	135. A Question of Perception

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lavellan invites Solas to join the next elf council, Solas has some thoughts about that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW - Smut adjacent(?)

‘Are you sure that you wish me to be at this meeting, vhenan?’ Solas asked, looking up from the book he was reading, stretched out rather luxuriously across the little sofa. Long legs crossed at the ankle. 

Looking up from my desk, from behind the small mountain of paperwork, and scratching my neck with end of my quill. I pulled at a face at him for a moment. And then dropped the quill back sharply into it’s pot, splashing drops of ink onto the wood. ‘I had expected you’d want to know everything Merrill’s found out.’ The question was clear in the tone of my voice.

Three weeks after we’d taken seperate directions from the Crossroads Merrill and Marina had arrived back at dusk the evening before. Riding in on a small cart, with a large wrapped object in the back I took to be her eluvian, they’d promptly retired to their rooms with promises of telling us everything in the morning. I’d set around word to the ‘elf council’, and had just passed on the invitation to Solas.

He gave me a look I could not interpret over the cover of his book. Eyes dark, slight smile tugging at his lips and I got the vague feeling he was above all of this chaos. ‘Simply, it is a meeting of the Dalish, and I am not-’ 

‘Marina will be there, my love.’ I cut across, tossing the letter I had been reading into a small pile. A report from the Emprise du Lion, from Cullen. He had taken a small section of the Inquisition’s army directly to the Emprise du Lion. The initial reports coming back from Orlais, were truly terrible, Cullen had found evidence of Templars forced to take red lyrium until it grew out of their very skin. I didn’t need to read the rest of the report, _I’d seen it, in Redcliffe, in future one_. But the Red Templars had been caught unawares and quickly pushed back to a fortress that was currently under siege. Cullen predicted the fortress would belong to the Inquisition within a week. I stood, letting the chair slide across the floor with a tiny squeaking protest. Crossing the room and perching on the arm of the sofa, ‘I realise you don’t hold Merrill in the highest of esteem-’

He gave me a sigh, ‘Merrill is,’ he paused, eyebrows scrunched together as he considered what to call her, ‘well enough read. It is your Keeper’s endless probing I find a little alarming.’ 

I laughed then, unable to stop myself, and he shot me a quick glare for the effort. ‘You’d rather my mother didn’t talk to you?’ 

He tilted his head, and quirked his lips in such a way that said he was strongly considering it. 

Picking the book up from his hand and ignoring his protest, I closed it without marking the place, and slipped it onto the table. ‘You know she is only taking an interest,’ I said with playful chastisement. Though I thanked the gods my family and Solas managed to get on as well as they did. ‘And she is only taking an interest.’ I paused for a moment, considering my next move, _sod the paperwork._ I straddled his hips, and caught his cheek with my hand to force him to look up at me. Dropping my voice low, I whispered against his ear, ‘because I am taking _an interest_.’ 

He sighed against my neck, and I saw him give his book a last look. But I knew the book was forgotten as his fingers found my hip bone, and his other hand drew around my waist, encircling me to drag me closer. ‘I do so enjoy your rapt interest.’ He breathed, and his hot breath ran shivers across my skin. A steady hand carefully untucked my shirt, as he pulled back, eyes dark to watch my every move. His nails traced the barest grazed across the small of my back, and I couldn’t help the smirk once I knew he was already under my shirt. 

My back arched into his touch, and I pulled at the slim ties holding my hair in place. Messy dark curls spilled down like a waterfall, separating us from the rest of the world. I bent down slightly to kiss him. It was utterly chaste for a single moment, one long heartbeat full of unsaid things and desperate aching. He broke the calm before I could, sharp teeth biting into my lip and pushing his hot tongue into my mouth.

I moaned unable to stop myself, but then pulled back, to see him frown in concern. ‘And what will you do,’ I asked, running my fingers up the lines of his chest, to setting my fingertips against his collarbone, ‘what will you do, now you have my interest?’ I teased. I twisted one of my hands into his petrified bone pendent, before I let it drop against his ribs.

‘Ahh,’ he breathed, the hand had that found it’s customary place at my hip was freed to wander up to my hair, fingers making hopeless knots to pull me back down to him. ‘What would you have of me?’ He growled. 

 _The things I would do-_ but I didn’t have a chance to vocalice any of my desires as a burst of glacial cold fluttered out against my back, like having a shard of ice dropped down my shirt. I exclaimed, and scrambled back. ‘What-‘  

Solas’ eyes were wide, and he looked guilty as sin. His hands drawn back in a panic, and his eyes squeezed tightly shut, ‘ _ir abelas_.’ He shook his head, and racked a single hand across his scalp. 

It took me more than a moment, to realise the sudden turn of events. ‘Did you just-?’ The burst of laughter erupted from my chest before I had a moment to school my expression. _Sweet man looked utterly hurt_ , but I pulled him back to my arms. ‘Sera did ask if you’d ever done magic accidentally.‘ 

He gave me a sharp look, ‘she is encourageable,’ the disdain was clear in his voice. There was a flush in his cheeks, that undercut the very dignified way he was trying to hold himself. 

Stifling my grin, and putting on my very best serious face, I laced my fingers through his. ‘Whereas I am utterly not encourageable.’ I dropped a quick kiss to the best of his hand, and then lingered a moment until I had his attention, dark eyes met mine ‘do it again.’ I murmured against the back of his hand. And then I glanced up, biting my bottom lip. 

He pulled his hand back, and reached up to stroke a loose strand of hair back behind my ear, then dropped the hand into his lap. I could see his tension written in every movement, every gesture, but struggled to understand it. 

‘Forget it,’ I whispered, suddenly feeling like I’d asked far too much. Under his careful scrutiny, I shrank back a little. ‘I shouldn’t have-’

The action, tightened his jaw further, and his hand closed into a loose fist in his lap, ‘the question is not of control, but perception.’ 

 _My perception?_ ‘You’re worried I’ll be afraid?’ When I’d didn’t get an answer, I suspected I was on the right track. _Dirthamen untangle that one, where was this coming from?_ ‘I’ve seen you in the field, I know what you can do. You’re a mage, and a damn good one, despite what Dorian likes to say. But you don’t scare me, besides,’ I smirked, ‘that little trick with the fade step is rather useful.’ I wrapped my hands around his neck, bringing him towards me and making eyes towards the bed on the overhanging balcony above us. 

In the moment it took to look to the bed, his entire posture had changed. ‘Little trick?’ He scoffed, and brought me firmly against the line of this body. 'I have no intention of tricking you, vhenan.' Encircled again and ensnared, the world flashed green, before I found myself pressed down into the bed, my lover’s limbs tangled in mine.

  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Huuuuhhhh, wonder why Solas might be worried Els' would be afraid of him, that doesn't make any sense...


	136. Green Skin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As we left off with Solas and Lavellan in bed... we continue with Solas and Lavellan in bed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fair warning, this is pretty much just smut, without even the guise of plot. Proceed with care if smut isn't your kind of thing; 
> 
> Huge thank you to Fenhello for convincing me that this chapter was necessary, and for giving my first draft a read! <3

The world flashed green as we tumbled down onto the bed, and I found my skin covered in light dusting of emerald green magic. My hands froze in the act of pulling Solas’ shirt up, and glanced up to see his dark eyes watching me. Careful, calculating, testing the barrier that settled softly on my skin. With tantalising slowness, he dipped his head against my neck, and bit down gently on the thundering pulse that resided there. I writhed against him,  _ this wasn’t a battle, _ but the residual magic curling around my skin made my hyper aware of the guarded graze of teeth across my skin. ‘A barrier?’ I gasped, my eyes fluttering closed, to focus solely on the thousand little stimulations, each as fierce as a thousand fires, burning beacons that lead the way to the dizziness in the pit of my belly. 

‘Drawing energies from the fade can be used to form a protective shield,’ he breathed against the bare lines of my stomach, raising shivers when he chuckled. ‘Or something altogether more pleasurable.’ 

‘Sweet talker,’ I chastised playfully, but my point was rather underscored by the needy sigh that followed. And whatever eloquence I had left, promptly fled as war-worn hands found the band of my loose casual trousers. Words lost all meaning compared to the rune lines he was carving with lightly-touched fingertips across my hips. 

The fluttering pulse of emerald began to beat out a faltering tune across my skin, and I knew enough to know that the barrier was beginning to fade. As it flickered out, I dragged his mouth to mine. 

He smirked as he pulled back from me, assumed as my lower lip pouted. With me so distracted he took his shirt into his own hands and pulled it over his head. His jawbone pendant getting caught for a moment, and falling back hard against the pale skin of his chest. He watched me watch it, and when I flicked my eyes up, I was pushed back against the twisted sheets. 

His skin was warm as warm as a day in high summer, but the pendent was a shock of ice which hit in the valley between by breasts. A petrified tooth took a vengeful bite from the skin over my breastbone. 

I pushed him back by the shoulders, ‘that thing is dangerous.’ I chastised in a tone that held no chastisement. And I rubbed at the pinprick of blood, it was the tiniest scratch imaginable. I pushed my wild hair back out of my face, and gave him the most serious look I could conjure at that moment, ‘so dangerous, I might need another barrier.’ 

Solas surveyed the damage for a moment, ‘ahhh’, he intoned before he dropped his head, as he did, his eyes caught the light reflecting brilliant lyrium blue, ‘I know what you need.’ He places a chaste kiss against the spot where I had been nicked, then he pulled the pendent from him, and tossed it across the other side of the bed. It hit with a soft sound. And he advanced on me, pushing me back as I had him, pushing me back into the sheets. Before he dipped his head. 

My breath hitched, a new flush breaking across my skin. 

He lavished his attention, free hand coming up to stroke delicate circles across my breast and he ran his thumb across my nipple. New runes, with new meanings. But then he dipped lower, he was running kisses, licks and bites down my stomach, deliciously slowly. This was unlike anything that had come before, his dark eyes watched me, careful, calculating. And I felt like this was some kind of ritual, not the usual desperate, stolen moments. 

Then he was gone from me, and panicked I sat up on my elbows to see that he was kneeling on the floor. If I hadn’t already been lying down, I might not have been able to stand, the sight of him had my legs dissolve into jelly. 

‘My love?’ I said, but it came out as a question. 

His fingertips returned to their place at the waistband of my trousers, a query resting on his touch. ‘Vhenan,’ he replied steadily, but it contained a question.  _ Do you want me to stop?  _ He didn’t move for a moment, waiting. And I waited, my lungs hammered, gasping down air. 

I nodded, furiously, desperately. 

As he dragged my waistband down, my marked hand twisted in the sheets above me and my back arched as the anticipation was almost too much to bear. 

I pushed up on my elbows, getting a better view of the man between my legs. I was utterly naked. Even my carefully crafted  _ shem- _ skin was in a pile on the floor. I had no more masks left, just-

His fingers pressed against the insides of my thighs, opening my legs to him. I willingly bent my body to his will. He breathed against the pulse point here and I was almost undone. I fell back onto the bed, my elbows giving up any will to support me. 

And I inhaled sharply, suddenly as my skin was covered in green once again. The barrier that wasn’t a barrier, acted as an amplifier, and before he’s even touched me I felt myself unraveling. 

Yet that was nothing compared to a single heartbeat later, when his tongue pressed taut against my body. 

A ragged breath escaped my lips. ‘My love.’ I gasped. 

Then he licked a single stroke to taste me, and I writhed against him, my legs locked around the back of his head.  _ A simple bind, that he could break, if only he wanted to. _ Slowly, deliciously, he set about the task of devouring me. 

I was broken, unbound, mewling and shuddering against the sheets. For an ascetic, my hermit was making rather sinful sounds.  _ Sweet man, sweet talker, with a sweet tongue.  _ He was driving me quite mad. Too close again, as the second barrier faded. 

It gave me a few heartbeats to compose myself. I tried to still my gasping breath. Instead simply pulling my marked hand from the tangled sheet to find the back of Solas’ head, to urge him on. The tendons of his neck stood proud like the strings some Navarran instrument, and my fingers strung across them, making my own needy lines across the back of his neck. He willingly complied. 

Until I was trembling, limbless, shaking. And then for the final time, another shivering, perfect barrier. Drawing my attention solely to him, his actions and everything that he was doing to me.  _ Green engulfed me _ . 

Only the force of the crashing waves of my orgasm caused him to slow. And still did not stop, until I was shuddering against him. Then suddenly, he was gone and had appeared above me. Pressing down a citrus kiss against my lips. My limbless limbs reach out for him, fingertips just tucked over his ribs. I’d meant to pull him to me, but ended up rolling instead. I ended, marked hand splayed across his pale chest to feel his heart playing out it’s steady tune. I kissed him fiercely, wondering what I would not do for this man. 

  
  



	137. Whispering Well

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lavellan gathers the elves to her, intending on having a full briefing in response to the Temple of Mythal now that Merrill and Marina are back. But nothing has gone to plan so far.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning - some bad language - mostly Sil.

‘Ghilan’nan fuck me up the arse,’ Sil panted, bending over at the waist with his hands on his knees. Then he righted himself, ‘that’s too many stairs.’ Deshanna’s Orlesian style teapot was hanging in his hands by the handle. The lid, tilting at a dangerous angle.

The sounds of the mid-morning’s army drills were still echoing around the courtyard, which meant he was early. _I had asked for them to come up once the drills were completed. It was sheer dumb luck, he hadn’t stumbled upon us in bed._ ‘Colourful,’ I noted, instead. Taking his free hand to pull him close to briefly touch the lines of our _vallaslin._  

Wrinkling his nose, he snapped playfully, ‘colourful? Oh, go hunt a halla.’ 

I raised my palms in surrender, laughing as I did so, ‘someone’s prickly this morning.’ 

He placed the Keeper’s teapot down on the arm of the sofa, and slumped in it, knocking his head all the way back. ‘First’s got flu, and he’s extra cranky.’ Then noticing Solas tucked up and reading by the open balcony, raising a hand in greeting, ‘aneth and all that.’ He received a polite nod in response. 

‘You left Deshanna to deal with him then?’ Just as the words left my mouth, the wooden door at the bottom of the stairs to my quarters opened. I heard the tell-tale rattle of the teal beads she had strung onto the end of her staff, each one recording a different event. 

‘I’ll put the tea on,’ I muttered as Sil did not even stir to do so. 

Once the four of us had warm cups of rosehip, lime and elfroot infusions in our hands, well Solas had carefully placed it beside his chair too polite to refuse the cup. 

We taken up the seats in the little circle of chairs, where my bed had once been. Deshanna bobbed her leg, ‘no Moherinal today, he’s a little under the weather.’ She said softly. 

‘Mm,’ I nodded, sipping the tea, _it was good,_ a blend Deshanna had brought from Rivain for relaxation.

My words were interrupted by a bellow from the bottom of the stairs, ‘we’re early, Hellana! Put your kit on!’ It was Marina, of course. 

I coughed nervously into my tea, ‘Lorinal is also away with Josephine, so it will be a smaller gathering that usual.’ I said, though I wasn’t sure if anyone was paying me a lick of attention. 

Bounding up the stairs with Merrill in tow, Marina spread her arms at the top of the stairs triumphantly, ‘we got it back!’ She bellowed, and then stopped abruptly, and started floundering. ‘Um, Keeper, sorry. I didn’t realise,’ she laughed nervously, ‘already here.’ 

‘Hello!’ Merril interjected cheerfully, seemingly oblivious to her lover’s predicament. 

I knew not to risk, glancing at Sil. From the corner of my eye, I could see him rocking with silent laugher, _arsehole_. 

Deshanna for her part, seemed fazed for a single heartbeat before she stood to serve more of her rosehip infusion. As she was distracted I sneakily switched my empty cup with Solas’. He kissed my hand as I passed to return to my seat.

Marina had fully launched into recounting how the two of them had rescued Merrill’s eluvian. 

Merrill studied her cup for a long moment, using her finger to prod at one of the floating rosehips, ‘all the plants in the crossroad are red.’ She said, and Marina cut off. Merrill stated, and glanced up to see everyone staring at her. She glanced over to Marina, who nodded encouragingly. ‘The light,’ she waves a hand vaguely above her, ‘it’s not sunlight.’

‘Or moonlight,’ Marina interjected, and shrugged her shoulders forward, ‘it doesn’t feel right.’ 

Merrril frowned at her wife, ‘I felt fine.’ 

‘I know, baby dragon,’ her wife purred back to her. 

Sil sat up, kicking his legs up into the air, and slammed them onto the ground. Leaning forward and resting with his fingers tented in front of him. ‘No sun, no moon. It’s a constructed space.’ he sighed and sat back, clicking his fingers as though trying to catch the thought that was flying too fast. ‘No, Elgar’nan, no Mythal.’ 

‘No Mythal anyway,’ I offered, feeling the worry bubbling up under my skin. _She’s dead._ The words hung in the room uncomfortably. There was a moment of silence, so tense that I wished I’d never opened my mouth. 

It was broken by Sil, ‘doesn’t make sense Els, don’t make any damned sense. Not even Dirthamen can unravel this pile of hartshit.’

‘Sil,’ Deshanna cautioned. As Solas chuckled under his breath and the two exchanged a trepidatious look. 

I watched Solas open his mouth to make a sarcastic remark. I mouthed at him, ‘no.’ 

Sil rocked forward again, and gave me one of his wilder looks. ‘Of course!’ he hissed, ‘She wasn’t real, she was a moon.’ He threw his hands up into the air, ‘controls the tides, like the moons do. I’ll be she got hit by a falling star or something-’

‘I remember her,’ Merrill said suddenly, cutting across Sil. ‘She wasn’t a moon.’

‘Wha-’

‘We remember her,’ Merrill pressed her fingertips to the sides of her forehead, as though the pronoun she used was the part that shocked everyone. ‘They…’ she huffed, ‘the Well remembers her. She was real.’ 

‘Shit.’ Sil said, settling back, and crossing his arms across his chest. 

Marina laughed. ‘It was a good idea, besides that.’ She patted the seat next to her.

‘I know,’ he jumped up and moved to sit next to her. It wasn’t the first time I’d seen those two exchanging conspiracy theories.

I wasn’t a lick interest in their stories, instead my full attention was captivated by Merrill, ‘you can see her?’ I asked awed.

‘Yes,’ her large eyes half closed and she looked off into the middle distance, ‘she’s by the Well, before, when it more.’ she shook her head and laughed a little, ‘before, the Well was,’ she then said that I distinctly recognised as being elvish, but didn’t have a hope of translating. 

‘And what does that mean?’ My mother asked. 

Merrill shrugged, ‘there’s too many faces,’ she answered, as though it was an answer that made sense. Her eyes glazed over again, ‘so many…’ she turned abruptly, ‘Solas? Why were you at the temple of Myth-’ she broke off half way through the word and seemed to jump back into her skin. She gave him a horrified glance, ‘forget it. _Ir abelas,_ I didn’t mean anything by it.’ 

He doesn’t say anything, just sort of froze. 

‘Marina,’ she says, looking directly forward. Her shoulders shook, her knuckles clenched in her lap. ‘Marina,’ she hissed again. Louder this time. 

‘And that is why emberium is not scared to Sylaise,’ Sil finished looking triumphant, broad grin plastered across his face. 

Marina was laughing so hard, she had tears in her eyes, she looked like she might fall off her chair. 

‘Marina.’ Merrill said much louder, a tremble creeping into her tone. 

‘Wha-’ Marine spun, annoyed at being interrupted, and then it was her turn to freeze. Her expression dissolved instantly into worry. ‘What’s wrong?’ 

‘You remember - what you told me - in Kirkwall - about - not blurting things out.’ She said in a hissed whisper, still looking deadly forward. 

Marina nodded, standing and moving to wrap a protective arm around Merrill’s shoulder, ‘come on, let’s go and you can tell me.’ She stood, guiding her trembling bondmate, with one hand on her waist. Then Marina turned back, ‘excuse us.’ She said with a little flourishing bow. 

As they descended the stairs, Deshanna stood. Knocking the remains of her rosehip tea across the floor. _She didn’t notice_. ‘I should,’ she paused, ‘go check on Moherinal.’ Without waiting for an answer she left, trying her hair up as she left. 

‘Auntae’s lying,’ he groaned, and then Sil looked between us, one eyebrow raised. ‘What did I miss?’ 

I waved a hand vaguely in Sil direction, to silence him, I wasn’t looking at him. Only at Solas. Who was waiting like a man bound for the gallows. ‘My love,’ I began slowly, wondering how to form the screaming thoughts in my head into a question, ‘what did Merrill mean, that she had seen you at the Temple of Mythal before?’ 

He looked at me for a long moment, and then cursed under his breath. ‘I had hoped she wouldn’t recognise me.’ 

I couldn’t understand what he was telling me. ‘You,’ I glanced at Sil.

His eyebrows were furrowed, ‘from the way she freaked out, I’m guessing you weren’t there last week?’ 

Solas glanced at my cousin, ‘that is correct,’ He said grimly. 

‘Right, right, so you’ve seen Arlathan?’ Sil asked, the little grin on his face revealing that he's skipped straight past disbelief, and straight into the territory of endless questions.

‘Sil, hush.’ I said, before Solas could answer me. The two turned to me. And I saw it then, the sharp contrast between elf and elvhen. _The ages had soften the elves, worn smooth by time like a pebble on the beach. While my lover had remained immaculate_. ‘How,’ I paused to lick my lip, my throat was dry, ‘how old are you?’ 

Solas chuckled sadly, and looked down, ‘please vhenan do not make me answer that.’ 

Sil started laughing, and he slapped his thigh, ‘he means _old as balls.’_ And because his eyes were closed, he never saw the cushion I’d aimed at his face before it struck him on the nose.


	138. Knife Edge

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After finding some of his secrets revealed, Solas and Lavellan have a much needed chat. How much will he reveal?

‘Silver,’ I said calmly, ‘can you give us a minute, please?’ My teeth were gritted and I tried not to let my irritation shine through. 

My cousin gave my a huffed of annoyance in return, ‘why? You’re only going to tell me everything an hour or two from now.’ 

_ He had a point,  _ instead I pulled rank, ‘I’m older than you.’ I said softly.

Sil jumped to his feet, marched right over to me and held out his closed fist, then titled his hand and pointed his little finger at me. 

‘Of course,’ I whispered in reassurance, and took his outstretched finger with my own little finger. We shook on the deal solemnly and then he released me, dropped a kiss on my cheek and my cousin was gone, muttering good-naturedly as he went. 

When I heard the door go behind him, I realised I had nowhere to start. So I crossed the room, and pulled a large green book from my bookcase. The hollow behind it was empty, I cursed under my breath, and pulled out another tome, and then another. My secret supplies of spirits had been picked clean. I picked up what was left of my tea, the one I’d switched, and sat down in the chair next to the elvhen. Taking a swig, I grimaced. It would have been kinder with a good slug of brandy in the bottom. 

Solas didn’t offer any information, rather seemed to be cautiously waiting for me to process it. Taking another sip of infusion, all I could taste was the lime, bitter and sweet all at one. I started somewhere in the middle, ‘you died for me, in future one, and you-‘

‘Hellana those were not  _ my _ actions,’ he disagreed softly, ‘although I agree with myself that it was a necessary sacrifice to return the world.’ 

His words hit me harder than I was expecting them to, I had buried all the feelings that Redcliffe had created. Neither dealing with them or understanding them, simply locking them away. I hadn’t expected the wound to still be so raw. I shook my head fiercely, ridding myself of the image of him, covered in a mist of cruel red lyrium. My mind was utterly blank for a moment, suddenly recalling our first fight. ‘So, is that why the elves are not your people?’

'And will you simply be quoting back to me everything I have ever said?’ 

‘Depends,’ I replied, putting down my cup with a resounding snap, ‘it seems I have to reevaluate everything you’ve ever said to me.’ 

His eyes grew dark at the words, ‘ _ not everything, vhenan _ .’ Then Solas closed his eyes slowly and took a breath, and then racked a hand across his scalp. ‘Forgive me, I was going to tell you everything that morning, and nearly every morning since.’ He twisted the chair around to face me, studying me. 

‘There’s more?’ I asked, my words taking on a high, almost hysterical edge. 

His eyes didn't meet mine. ‘There is always more.’ He said grimly, and swallowed hard. 

My fingers found the woven bracelet I was still wearing on my wrist, wondering if I should have let Sil stay, ‘is that why Leliana can’t find your hometown?’ 

He sighed, still sat too still. He reminded me of a Hunter, luring a skittish halla close, ‘in my foolishness, I did not think to lie to her.’ 

I laughed then, _sweet man._ I reached out for his hand, I ran my thumb gently along his forefinger, and then looked up, ‘so the things you’ve _seen in the fade_? Are they memories?’

‘Some, but in all honesty it is not so easy to separate, as the veil was drawn up, I feel into uthenera, I have been walking the fade since then,’ he paused and looked away from me, ‘I did not think to wake again.’ I gasped a little, and he gave me a sad soft smile. ‘But I did, and came to offer you my assistance.’ 

_ Uthenera? He talked of it as though it was utterly common, as regular as I may speak of a bathtub.  _ And I was struck by how utterly different we really were.  _ What could he see in me? Did he think I was shadow in the forest?  _ ‘I am glad that you are here.’ I said, and my voice cracked. 

I crumpled over in the chair, pressing my face into the back of his palm. His skin brushed against the branch lines of my  _ vallaslin  _ that lived beneath my eyes.  _ Shadow, shadow, shadow.  _ The little voice hissed from the corner of my mind. ‘Is there-’  _ I considered for a moment, if he thought me a shadow, did I really want him to tell me? _ ‘Is there anything else, you’d like to tell me?’

My heartbeats counted the time, bounding out a stretch of time that could rightly be called aeons. I sat up, and squeezed his hand. Solas’ mouth was a little open, but he was lost. When he looked at me, all I saw was fear. We were both terrified. 

‘Will you permit me to tell you on my own terms, vhenan?’ The words stumbled out, as though he wasn’t quite in control of them, as though they were the best solution he could come up with. 

I blinked, uncertain for a moment,  _ permit me to tell him on his own terms? What else was he hiding from me? _ I considered throwing something, but instead just sighed. I did, and I realised in that moment with unshakable certainty, that I did in fact love him. So I simply said, ‘if you like.’ 

He moved across, gracefully sinking on his knees in front of me, and taking my marked hand in his. ‘Do you wish to know whose mark you bear?’ 

_ No,  _ was my first thought.  _ Gods above, let it not be someone terrible.  _ I flinched a little, in preparation for the response, ‘yes tell me.’ I whispered so silently, I could barely hear my own words.

‘Fen’Harel.’ 

All the air in my lungs escaped in a single whistle, ‘oh thank the gods, I thought you were going to say Dumat or Andraste!’ Then I leaned my head back, ‘at least he’s one of ours.’ I muttered. When I looked back Solas was giving me a particularly odd look. ‘And don’t look at me like that, you utter purist-‘ 

Then the gears in the back of my mind, clicked round once. I was on my feet before I knew it, backing away from him. ‘Fuck, fuck, fuck.’ I spat, racking my hands through my hair. My dagger that lived in my boot was in my hands, it had stayed with me since long before the explosion and I tossed it weakly across the room. Desperate for it to get as far away from me as possible. It hit the stone floor with a clatter and skid away from me. I twisted, have expecting some form of divine vengeance to appear through the open balcony door. 

_ From every story I had ever been told, I knew one truth to be absolute. The gods did not leave their powers in moral hands for long. Fen’Harel would be prowling around somewhere, and I’d better not have a weapon with his name on it when he found me.  _

‘I need to burn it,’ I decided, and then stepped forward to retrieve the sacrilegious little weapon, but I found my bones numb. I swayed on the spot for a long moment. 

Solas was still knelt on the floor where I had left him, he was still again. Watching me with dark eyes, he stood slowly. Gazed with a quite curious expression, as though I was some puzzle he hadn’t figured out yet. And obvious to my inner turmoil, he asked, ‘before you do, the dagger was able to cut through the fade, may I examine it?’ 

Spinning on the spot to face him, ‘it’s too dangerous.’ 

He chuckled, ‘I will be quite safe, I assure you, vhenan.’ 

Torn in half by the decision, I stepped back to him. ‘Promise me, you’ll burn it. The moment you are done.’ 

‘If you like,’ he replied solemnly repeating my own words back to me. _I'd trust him to burn the knife, and he trusted me to give him time_. He offered me a little smile, as though to tell me my fears were unfounded. And then he wrapped his arms around me and pulled me tight. He pulled back, and dropped a sweet kiss onto my lips, ‘may I see you tonight?’ 

I nodded. And then I watched him go across the room, swooped to pick the little knife up. He tested the balance for a few heartbeats and it made my ears ring just to watch. Before, a few more heartbeats later, he was gone.  _ My elvhen lover _ , I thought with an odd spark in the pit of my belly. 


	139. Shem-Skin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lavellan leaves for the Arthlathvhen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Best summary ever]

‘Darling, could you wrap your goodbyes up, I’d rather like to get the apartments while there is still light.’ Vivienne called from a little way back.

Flushing, I pulled back from the kiss I had been sharing with Solas, but he caught my waist and pulled me back. ‘The First Enchanter can wait,’ he muttered against my lips. 

It would be a week until I saw him again, despite my rather convincing arguments to my mother on the subject, she did not relent and allow him to join us at the Arlathvhen. ‘She can,’ I sighed resting my fingertips against his chest and pushing him away softly, ‘but a couple hundred Keepers will not.’ 

We had not spoken of his past since the afternoon almost a week before, the secret sat uncertainly between us, as did his vague promise that he had more to tell me. I tried not to think of it, ignored it most hours of the day, but it appeared as a nagging thought first thing in the morning and it was always that last thought at night. 

‘Ahhh,’ he said in a resigned agreement, and bowed his head to me. Before taking my hand from his chest and leading me back to the group. 

Just as we were still out of earshot, I pulled back, bringing him up short, ‘don’t kill Sil,’ I whispered, ‘he means well.’ 

Solas gave me a look as though he didn’t believe it at all. My cousin had barely taken a breath with his million and one questions, and seemed to rather enjoy Solas' discomfort. 

 

We rejoined the group, Vivienne looked as splendid as ever, atop a silky grey warhorse. Speaking softly with my mother stop her hart. Vivienne had asked to return to her Duke, his health was waning and I’d said of course she could return, though been so bold as to ask she allow two guests to accompany her. After all her apartments in Halamshiral were only a half days ride from the Arthlathvhen gathering. 

‘Shall we go?’ Moherinal said, his tone letting on that he was irritated. He was stood holding the reins of Torchbearer, but when I reached my hand out he did not hand them back to me. 

Sil passed me a look, and I understood, the First wanted the honour of arriving on a hart. The honour the he believed I had taken from him. So I didn’t begrudge him overly when he climbed onto Torchbearer and offered me a hand. _I was his guest_ , but perhaps that was for the best. ‘Don’t you drop her,’ Sil said coldy to his First, ‘she’s more important than you at this point.’ 

When I laughed, Moherinal gave me a blood curdling look. _This was going to be a long journey._ When I mounted Torchbearer behind him, he pulled away from my grip. 

We waved goodbye to our traveling companions and continued on just the three of us, Deshanna, Moherinal and I. 

It was only when we away from the others that Moherinal rose out of earshot of my mother, ‘don’t touch me with your cursed hand.’ He hissed.

Blindsided for a moment by his sudden vitriol, I let my left hand reach against Torchbearer's flank. Although I was half sure I’d fall, I only cling to Moherinal with my right hand. _He could explain to Deshanna if I did._ I thought venomously. 

 

I spotted the Arthlathvhen as a sea of brightly coloured camps and shelters on a pale green hill that appeared on the horizon. It was beautiful, in its sprawling, ramshackle, Dalish way. Like the gods themselves had dropped a cup of beads and they had fallen into graceful and gorgeous patterns. 

As we approached I spotted a variety of people that we knew. Trishiel, a young Keeper from a Rivain clan, she came running towards us as we approached. She had summered with our clan a few years back. The _vallaslin_ was barely dry on her face. Panting a little as she neared us, she was practically giddy with excitement. ‘Hellana!’ She yelled, skidding to a holt, and I slipped from Torchbearer’s back to embrace her. ‘You have to tell me, is it true?’ 

 _Shit._ ‘Trishiel?’ I gasped.

She grabbed my marked hand, the green light casting an odd shadow across her _vallaslin._ ‘You think we wouldn’t here up there in Revian? Don’t keep it from me!’ She gushed. 

I glanced back to see Moherinal looking particularly put out. And I vaguely recalled him being sweet on her. Deshanna on the other hand, looked amused and kept back a little to give us the illusion of privacy. 

‘A hedge mage! How’s you even find one so far south!’ She took my unmarked hand and spun me in a half circle, and then pointed a curved finger to my chest. ‘You can take the girl out of Revain,’ she giggled, gave me a sly look. ‘I see, I’ll have to catch you after a few, and you'll spill everything!’ She turned to Deshanna and Moherinal, ‘it’s good to see you Keeper, and you Merinal.’ Before she was off again, bounding away. Her staff clicking against her back with each step. 

 

I walked after that. 

 

‘What are you looking at!’ A harsh Navarren accent demanded. And I jumped half expecting to see Cassandra. I wasn’t completely wrong. It was a warrior, a tall woman, thick with muscles that were obvious from her sleeve-less tunic. That in itself was not surprising, but rather the fact she was a barefaced human. _At least human in appearance_. 

Moherinal stammered, it appeared the question has been directed at him. 

‘Careful boy,’ she spat, ‘I’ve got more elf-blood than you.’ She flexed a little and I saw her _vallaslin_ , carved in intricate lines across her arms. 

‘Keeper Anthonia,’ Deshanna addressed, stepping forward in front of Moherinal. 

The woman instantly mellowed, her tight face broke into a grin and they clasped hands before touching foreheads. Then Deshanna turned to us, mostly looking at Moherinal. ‘Moherinal, I told you about our _shem-skin siblings.’_ Then she turned back to Anthonia, and she gave her a _I don't know what to tell you_ look.  

I remembered suddenly, of the clans who had been tainted by human blood. A single drop, even fifty generations back would still result in a child that looked human. They tended to congregate together, gathering new elf-blooded children as they went. I knew that some like the mage in front of me would take a variation of _vallaslin_ that left their faces bare, so they could pass in human cities. At least the ones that did not abandon their clans altogether.

‘Come Deshanna, it has been too long, drink with me.’ She ushered Deshanna towards her tent, and reluctantly gave Moherinal a wave, then looked to me and stopped. ‘Inquisitor?’ I grimaced and she laughed heartily. ‘Come drink with us, and we shall all take our _shem-skins_ off!’ 

 

It was only much later, when I was stumbling back to Keeper Anthonia’s tent from releaving myself, that I spotted Moherinal speaking to Keeper Hawen in a shadowy corner that I had even realised he had left our drinks. 


	140. Moherinal Lavellan

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> On the first morning of the Arlathvhen, Hellana meets a dog and has a run in with her First.

Something was licking my hand, I sat up groggily to find a thin shaggy brown dog looking at me with big soppy eyes. He tilted his head at me expectantly and then sighed at me. Rubbing the sleep out of my eyes, I realised the animal was probably looking for food. I patted him on the head, and glanced around to find my clothes. We’d stayed the night with Keeper Anthonia, and from the pounding behind the branching lines of  _ vallaslin,  _ I knew we had drunk a fair amount. My mouth tasted like I’d swallowed sawdust, and I felt a little queasy around the little curtained off niche for where I could possibly have stored by brestband the night before. I gave the dog a little glance, wondering if it could help, and then I shook the thought off as quickly. 

It sat watching me, patient, but expectantly. But I didn’t immediately jump to attention, he whined a little. ‘Yes, yes, alright,’ I muttered, locating my breastband and holding it aloft for a moment triumphantly. Dressing a little slower than I would have liked, I finally emerged into the main tented area. 

An older man that I had met the night before, Anthonia’s first, Alwyn, gave me a little wave as he was clattering around with a large iron pan by the fire. They were doubly unusual that her First was older than her. Alwyn himself was a kindly elf-blooded man, and looked like the exact description Varric may write, if asked to describe a ‘wizard.’ He had a long braided white beard, which he had told me proudly the night before was the source of his name. Beyond that, and the unusual but familiar lines of Falon’Din carved around his forearms, I knew next to nothing about the man. I couldn’t help being curious as to why this man had chosen those particular lines. 

The dog had trotted out next to me, and gave a short, sharp bark. 

Alwyn looked up, rolled his eyes and tossed one of the rashers of bacon from the breakfast that he was preparing into the air. It was snatched from the air, quick as a flash of dog-shaped lightning. The dog tilted his head to Alwyn, who laughed, ‘no, Morgon, no more treats.’ 

The dog, Morgan, tilted his head the other way, and then looked to me. I raised my hands up, I had no treats for him either. So Morgan paced over to a particularly comfy looking rug and slumped down, his head on his paws. ‘Aww,’ I said, and looked up as Moherinal emerged, looking as good as I felt. His shirt was unbuttoned and half hanging off his shoulder, his hair was sticking up at odd angles and he looked as though he hadn’t slept a wink. For a man that was supposed to only be only a single year younger than Sil, he didn’t half look like a teenager who’d just woken up. 

‘Morning,’ I greeted, trying my best at diplomacy. 

Moherinal sort of grunted at me and slumped next to the fire, taking one of the water skins, drained it and buried his head in his hands. 

Alwyn passed me a look, smiled to himself and busied himself cooking. 

It was only once a bowl of steaming rice, bacon and eggs had been placed in front of my First that he looked up again. ‘Where’s the Keeper?’ He asked, his voice gruff. 

‘The Keeper’s are already lighting the bonfires,’ Alwyn said. 

I smiled, half a hundred fires would be raised on the outskirts of the Arlathven, creating a burning protective ring around the beating heart of the Dalish. ‘ _ Sylaise enaste _ ,’ I intoned and Alwyn nodded approvingly. It was dangerous for all of the Keepers to gather together in once place, one simple misfortune could destroy the entirely of the clans’ leadership in a single afternoon. So the entire magic of the Dalish was put to work protecting the gathering. I knew from Dirthanna’s stories that no one was permitted to cross the ring, until the Arlathvhen broke. 

‘Did I see you talking to Keeper Hawen, last night?’ I asked Moherial. 

He looked up from his bowl, a bitter expression across his face, ‘why do you care?’ 

I didn’t have anything to say to that, but Alwyn clapped his fellow First on the shoulder, ‘wash your sorrows away da’len, you will enjoy the Arthlathvhen, you are young, pretty and wearing the right skin.’ 

Moherinal gave him a black look, and shrugged away from his touch and bowed his head back over his bowl. His hackles were raised. ‘I was, if you must know. He lost his First in the Emerald Graves.’ 

_ Fenedhis,  _ ‘oh,’ was I mustered to say for a long moment. The fingers of my marked hand snaked out to touch my  _ vallaslin,  _ a prayer for the lost First, a prayer for Hawen, and for myself. I glanced up towards the canvased ceiling, it was as good as the open sky. ‘Be careful of Hawen,’ I added after a long moment, ‘he’s very sick.’ 

‘Strange, he said the exact same thing about  _ you _ .’ Moherinal spat at me, and within a heartbeat he was standing. My hand reached instinctively towards the empty sheath in my boot where I kept my knife. But Moherinal seemingly had no interest in harming me, instead he stormed from the tent. Knocking his bowl over in the process and spilling rice across the woven rug. 

I found my appetite gone after that, and the queasy feeling was back. Stronger than ever. I didn’t dare look up Alwyn. But Morgan was up in a moment and had found the fallen bowl and happily lapping up the spilled breakfast. His tail wagging happily. 

Thankfully the First didn’t say another word to me, I thought I might throw up if I needed to speak. A few heartbeats later, Morgan had padded over to me. His head resting on my leg, a heavy lump, forcing me from my own thoughts. Morgan’s big brown eyes were looking at my own bowl, begging for more food, his tail smacking carelessly against my face. I smiled and scratched behind his ears, and gave him what remained of my egg. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ARLATHVHEN!!


	141. Hawen Hawen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lavellan’s first day at the Arlathvhen is going super well, she spends the afternoon exploring... and the evening being sent before the Hahren’al.

Once Moherinal had fled the tent, and I had helped Alwyn clean the breakfast dishes, I went to explore the Arlathvhen. Lost among the brightly coloured tents, I wandered, without really looking for anything in particular. It didn’t take me long to forget my First’s hurtful words. By early afternoon, I could already taste the smokey burning herbs, from the bonfires around the ring that protected us. I recognised the scents of Sylaise sweet herbs, but there were other scenes that I could pick out, religious and mundane. Royal elfroot, dried, rolled and smoked to give a pleasant mellow feeling. All mixed in with the mouth-watering scents of a hundred small cooking fires. 

I heard prayers, offered to the Eight gods. Giving on raised voices, for there was no fear here, no wolves lurking in the shadows of the forest. Laughter bubbling up, as everyone took in the fresh air and simply relaxed. The cares of Thedas had been left on the far side of the burning ring. There was a concofiny of instruments, playing to a variety of skill levels, as our leaders met, joked and spent a week together. Sharing stories, showing off the knowledge they had gleaned. 

Debates raged hot back and forth between different factions, and I paused for a while to watch two Firsts argue back and forth over the correct gendering of _lethallen._ I couldn’t help but feel like Merrill would have loved this. But she had refused to come, despite being fully within her rights to come. Since the day she had walked out of my quarters she would not even be in the same room as Solas, would not look him in the eye. Let alone would have considered to share the journey down. 

I tried to shield my eyes from the lovers that I passed in various states of undress, giving them whatever privacy I could afford for them. For what better place could there be for people to meet? They were momentarily freed from the restraints of leadership, some needing to exchange nothing more than a hope for more magic for the clans, and a name, just in case. My own aunt had done the exact same thirty years ago, coming back with a belly full and a name to pass onto her son. But, just as many had no hopes for children, just for the simple pleasure of company. 

Then there were the lost, the clans who arrived Keeper-less, hoping to claim a mage so that their clans name could continue. The bubbling fear and hope and trepidation was so thick I could taste it. The only people that stunk worse with the fear where the extras, the mages born to clans with more than three already. Newly blooded most and hoping they could find a clan to take them. They milled around listlessly, one of them would be coming back with us to be our Second. 

 

When my legs began to tire, I turned and looped around to return to Keeper Anthonia’s tent. By the time I found it again, the stars had been blotted out by all of the thick smoke. Once I was near enough to see it, I saw Alwyn pacing back and forth. He saw me and came rushing over. ‘Where have you been,’ he hissed. His hair was in disarray, and he looked panicked. He called back into the tent, ‘she’s back!’ 

Anthonia appeared, flushed. She clasped both of my shoulders, ‘they called a _Hahren’al_.’ She gasped as though that explained everything. From the look of confusion on my face, she shook her head, ‘I will explain on the way.’ She grabbed my hand and was guiding me away before I had a chance to object. 

‘The hahren’al, is a gathering of the fifty eldest Keepers. They only meet when there are issues to discuss which affect all of the Dalish.’ She explained, dodging past tents and people milling around. She threw a look back, which lingered for a heartbeat on my marked hand. The unease from this morning bubbled up again and Cassandra’s words from so long ago returned to me, _there will be a trial, I cannot promise you anymore._

I clenched my left hand. _Marked, and dangerous, and finally important enough to be invited at the Arlathvhen_. The smoke in the air suddenly brought me back to the day on the Exalted Plains, maybe Sylaise would be getting her revenge after all. ‘Where’s my Keeper?’ I asked.  

Anthonia gave me a grim look, ‘she is in the council.’ 

 _She’s protect me,_ I knew deep in my bones. _She’d protect me._ ‘And Moherinal?’

‘Your First?’ She asked, pausing for a moment near an area that had been curtained off from the rest of the Arlathvhen. ‘He went to give witness half an hour back.’ 

I cursed, I knew Moherinal was unlikely to give a favourable account of my actions. _Why would he?_ He had resented me. 

The Keeper pushed my forward, towards a guard that stood in the gap between two canvas sheets. ‘Hellana was called before the council,’ Anthonia supplied. 

The guard looked at me, and spat at my feet. ‘You were summoned at noon.’ And then her gaze flicked to Anthonia, ‘wait here.’

‘ _Ir abelas,_ I didn’t know.’ I stammered out. _I should never have come here, I shouldn’t be here. I should never have left Skyhold._ It took all of my willpower to not turn and sprint away. _Be brave, little hare,_ my mother’s voice echoed in my head. And I tried to stand a little straighter. She would be in there. _I would go to her, and I would be safe._

‘You should not have kept the hahrens waiting.’ The guard spat, and grabbed me by the collar to pull me forward. I willed my feet to walk where she guided me. I was taken to a small cordoned off area, Moherinal was also stood there. The guard disappeared through another curtained flap.

‘Moherinal?’ I gasped. He tried not to look at me. ‘What is happening?’ 

‘My Keeper told me our duty was to rip out the weeds that threatened the clans.’ 

I recoiled from him, _I was a weed._ ‘Deshanna said that?’ I demanded. 

He traced a forefingers across his _vallaslin,_ lost in thought _._ ‘No, my Keeper said that, before he and his First held me down and blooded my face so I could be given to Deshanna.’

I stared at him, quite unable to comprehend what he had just told. Before I could even breath the guard had returned. ‘They will see you now.’ She reached for me, but I took a step back. 

‘I can walk.’ 

She gave me a scrutinising look, but offered her hand. And I stepped away from my First, wishing for the first time in my life to stay with him.

Reluctantly, I stepped through the curtain, and found myself in an open space, rugs had been laid across the ground and three huge bonfires were lit along the centre of an oval shaped arena. I scanned the crowd as subtly as I could, trying to spot my mother, when that failed, I tried to spot any face I knew. I was pushed down into a seat at one end of the arena. And the guard stood behind me, as though waiting for me to run. 

Then I spotted a face I recognised, Keeper Hawen. He stood, his back to the closest bonfire, meaning his face was in shadow and all I could see was his silhouette. ‘It is good of you to join us at last,’ his voice was tight, and course as though he’d been speak all day without water. There was a small titer from the gathered Keepers at his words. He circled around, to address them all. ‘Today, we have heard from her First. Terrible accusations if true, and that is our quest, to find the truth of the matter.’ He turned to me, with cold eyes. ‘And now we shall hear from the Hunter.’ 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Arlathvhen TWO!! 
> 
> Huge huge thank you to Fenhello, for all of your thoughts and comments so far - and for helping me make Moherinal a more sympathetic character!! <3
> 
> [and DoreNaEgoSum- one more chapter!! <3 ]


	142. Deshanna Lavellan

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After all... Cassandra promised her a trial.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW - pretty graphic violence towards the end, I've tried to keep it relatively tame, but this is your warning.

I felt like I was back in the Winter Palace, about to dance with Florianne. The same feeling of foreboding crawled across my skin. Around me, unknown painted faces swirled, waiting, watching to see if I knew the steps to this dance. Waiting to see if my dance partner would throw me to the ground or if I would keep my feet this time. 

Hawen approached the bench on which I was sat, meaning that I could see his familiar features rather than the simple black shape against the bonfire. ‘Identify yourself,’ he barked at me. 

Channeling my inner Vivienne, I sat up straighter, and crossed my hands laid gently on my lap. And gave him a withering look. ‘Hellana-’

‘Louder girl!’

I cleared my throat, my feathers a little ruffled. _Be brave, little hare._ I chanted, ‘Hellana Deshanna Lavellan.’ 

Hawen paced, back and forth for a few heartbeats, as though choosing his words carefully, ‘So you know Keeper Lavellan well?’ 

Frowning, I said slowly, ‘she’s my mother. Yes, of course I know her well.’ This wasn’t going the direction that I had been expecting at all. 

Hawen nodded, and retreated a little back into the shadows so I couldn’t see his face anymore. ‘And who was it that sent you to the Conclave?’ 

‘Um,’ I twisted the woven band on my wrist, a similar knot forming in my stomach, ‘Keeper Deshanna-’

‘And who was it who sent your clanmate Dehnan to the Temple of Andruil?’ 

‘Keeper Deshanna.’ My voice was quieter, as the puzzle pieces clicked into place. _It wasn’t me on trail_. And I knew with that drowning, sinking feeling, that I was still not important enough to have been called here. I was a witness, nothing more, called to provide testimony against my own name. I raised my hands quickly, trying to track back, ‘wait, it was given to the Hunters. We always drew lots.’ I raised my woven bracelet as evidence, as though it would matter. 

Hawen ignored my last outburst, still pacing in and out of the firelight. ‘You would like us to believe, that twice, the Hunters of Clan Lavellan simply stumbled across ancient powerful relics?’ 

‘Yes.’ I replied, feeling a little surer of myself. I knew I was being lead around the dancefloor again, trapped, outnumbered. And once again my dance partner was going after the Queen. But, unlike before, I knew his next move.

The Keeper paused in his pacing, and approached, so close I could see his eyes were red and bloodshot. ‘And who gave you permission to enter Skyhold?’

 _Fenedhis._ I glanced around the gathering of Keepers, the truth was unbelievable. _An elvhen dreamer showed us the way._ ‘I found it,’ I answered, ‘we stumbled across it in the mountains.’ 

What was it that Abelas had said of the Well of Sorrows? There was a rod of iron holding up my spine, ‘I did not seek permission, I took it by right.’ I said evenly, not letting this dull approximation of my cousin intimate me, ‘it belongs to all of us.’ 

‘Who led you there?’ He snapped, his hand tapping against the side of his hip. 

‘A…’ I paused, a man who Hawen swore was cursed. It would do me no good to bring Solas into this. ‘A dreamer showed me the way.’ 

A bitter sound burst from his chest, more like a cough broke than a laugh, he turned to address the Hahrens, ‘a dreamer, she says. A likely story.’ 

I stood, and was immediately pushed down by the guard behind me. ‘It’s true.’

The Keeper waved his hand in the air as though to dismiss the very idea, ‘and how long was it, after you miraculously found the lost site of _Tarasyl'an Te'las_ , until Clan Lavellan took up residence at Skyhold? A sacred space, I doubt I need to remind anyone.’

Swallowing hard, I answered, ‘a couple of months.’ 

‘A, couple, of, months.’ Hawen repeated loudly, pausing between each word for emphasis. ‘We have heard from Lavellan’s First, how the Keeper is present at meetings to protect the Hunters reputations from accusations of looting ancient sites. We have heard fanciful tales of long dead Magisters that none of us have seen.’ Hawen sighed hard, ‘Keepers, this brings me no pleasure,’ _hartshit._ ‘But one of our number, one of us, is hoarding ancient artifacts, settling in ancient sites and tearing the sky apart.’ 

Somewhere far off to the right, I heard someone shout, ‘give her the teeth.’ And my stomach twisted over. It was a particularly cruel form of banishment, and I had only ever heard of two Keepers in our entire history being given that treatment. Their clans had been separated, each member going to a new clan. Clan Lavellan would be destroyed, for what was a clan without a Keeper? Our name would be scattered upon the wind unless,

‘No.’ I shouted, and when I stood again, I shrugged the firm hand on my shoulder off. ‘She was only trying to protect me.' 

Hawen turned back to me, his eyes picking up the reflections of the fire. He strode towards me, and grabbed my chin, forcing me to look at him. ‘What did you say?’ 

I pulled back, but couldn’t escape his grip. ‘I did this,’ I said, _taking the blame for the sky falling apart_ , ‘I acted without permission. Keeper Deshanna is blameless in all of this,’ I was breathing hard, my legs felt like they might buckle, but I willed them to stay strong, ‘except trying to protect me.’ 

The corner of his mouth twitched up, and I wondered if this had been the plan all along. Go after my mother or go after me. Either way, he would strike a blow against us. ‘You understand the punishment for this?’ 

 _Unname, he would unname me. The clans would take my name and forget that I had ever lived. No Dalish would render me aid, or ever acknowledge kinship with me again_ . ‘Yes.’ I breathed. And when Hawen stepped closer to me, I spat at him in a whisper to not be overheard, ‘ _Fen’Harel ma ghilana_.’ 

He smiled, a sad little smile as though he honestly wished it was not the case, ‘no, _da’len_ , no one alive knows him like you.’ He twisted back, bellowing into the crowd, ‘the Hunter has overstepped, who is in agreement?’ 

Slowly, one hand went up, and then another. _This was his plan all along._ Till clearly more than half had their hands raised. _Cowards._ I closed my eyes, and sank back onto the seat. Still seeing their mocking waves behind my eyelids. When I opened my eyes, Hawen was by the fire, reaching in to something.

 _It would be done now, then. They would unname my trice, take my three names and leave me drifting. It would be just like_ vallaslin, I told myself. _Do not give them the pleasure of hearing you scream._

The burning metal brand came towards me, in the hands of a Keeper I had once thought I could trust. The metal glowing red hot and illuminated against the smoky night air. ‘Hold her,’ he called at the guard, and rough hands grabbed me. I did not try to escape. ‘Any last words, Hellana Deshanna Lavellen?’

Swaying a little, I looked up at my uncle, I wanted to tell them this was wrong. This was terribly, terribly wrong. That there had been some mistake, but if I did, I would lose my clan anyway.

Hawen laughed bitterly, and composed himself. ‘You have no clan,’ Hawen spoke, loudly, like an invocation, to the gods of cruelty. The first line pressed against my forehead, breaking the woven magic of my _vallaslin,_ for a second I felt nothing. Just numbness, and then it exploded in fiery anguish. _I did not scream._ ‘You have no mother,’ he said again, pulling the brand from my face. And I was sure he had taken the skin from my face with it. He pressed it in again, another line, just below the first. _I did not scream._ ‘You have no name.’ Then as the third line branded my face, and was roughly pulled away again, I knew I was dead, Hellana was gone. _I screamed._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translations
> 
> Tarasyl'an Te'las - Skyhold  
> Fen’Harel ma ghilana - Fen'Harel guides you// you have been mislead // used as a curse  
> Da'len - child


	143. The Girl with No Name

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lavellan flees from the Arlathvhen, and finds herself face to face with the man that she used to call her cousin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings - violence and blood :D

I do not recall how I left the Hahren’al, nor how I found my way to the great bonfires of the boundary line. Neither can I remember what Moherinal said to me, when he found me, looking pale as he handed me Torchbearer’s reigns. I do remember slapping him clean across the face, so hard that he stumbled back. Then I left him and hard rode away from the Arlathvhen, breaking the ceremonial protective line for the relative safety of Halamshiral. 

The city guards were not used to seeing a woman riding full charge towards their city atop a hart at dawn, as much was clear when many of them tried to slow my path. To identify myself. Torchbearer barrelled through them, and I continued pursued by  _ shem  _ up to the High Quarter. But harts were fast, faster than horses, and I left them in the dust kicked up by Torchbearer’s hooves. 

It was only when I found the gate outside Vivienne’s apartments that we slowed and I dismounted, leading the hart through the wrought iron gates. 

‘You can’t be here,’ one of Vivienne’s men told me as he approached. Trying to push me back through the gate. I flashed my hand at him, but he didn’t seem to notice, as he was still trying to block my path.

‘Tell Vivienne that I am here.’ I commanded, bringing to full force the authority of the Inquisitor, with the last of my strength.

‘I will not disturb Madam de Fer at this time of the-‘

I shoved past him, ‘Vivienne!’ I practically screamed, the sound echoing around the little closed courtyard, and reverberating back to me.

‘Really, Miss, I must ask that you leave.’ The man said darkly. 

But I saw her, Vivienne appear in one of the windows. Covered in an ethereal robe de chambre, ‘Inquisitor? Let her through, darling.’

‘Right,’ he clucked, and ushered me forward. But the weight of the last day and night caught up to me all at once, I stumbled and found myself sprawled on the paving slab. 

The guard sort of hovered around me, unsure if he could help or not.

I heard approaching steps, ‘Els!’ Silver, approached slowly from the courtyard, and then called in alarm as he saw me. He rushed over to me.  _ He didn’t know _ .  _ Of course he didn’t know.  _ I had hoped to have more time, suddenly the realisation of what I had done hit me, like the force of a meteor falling out of the sky. 

I didn’t even have the strength to lift my head. ‘Sil,’ I whispered, and cringed,  _ could I even still call him that?  _ ‘What are you doing up?’ 

‘I haven’t slept yet.’ He said carelessly, ‘Els, what happened?’ He was tugging at my shoulders trying to get me up. My red cowl was hung over the damage, shielding what I had become from him. ‘What are you doing here? You shouldn’t be back yet.’

I didn’t have an answer for it, at least not one that wouldn’t cause him pain. No answer that wouldn’t destroy his world.

‘Hellana,’ he protested, ‘what-‘

‘No,’ I said reaching for his hand, but it was too much, so I just pushed the hood out of the way, ‘I’m not, not anymore.’

He knelt and stared at me, and I counted out twelve whole heartbeats.  _ I didn’t need to tell him what I’d done, he didn’t need to ask what had happened. He must know that we were strangers now, and I knew he was under no obligation to offer me any aid. There was a space between us, that could never be closed again. I was a stranger to him- _

‘No, no, no.’ He breathed in alarm, and dropped to his knees next to me. I held my breath as I waited for his next move. ‘Els, how did this happen?’

‘He was going to hurt Deshanna, I had to protect the clan’ I murmured back.  _ Had it really happened? I’d been awake so long, the memories were getting foggy.  _ If only my face would stop screaming in agony, I could quite believe it had happened to someone else.

‘He?’ Silver repeated back to me, his hands rolled into fists at his side, he was shaking with rage. ‘Who did this to you?’I didn’t need to reply, the look across his face told him everything he needed to know. ‘It was Hawen wasn’t it?’ He snarled. ‘Give me your knife.’ He said through clenched teeth. ‘I’m going to kill him, feed his marrow to-‘ 

‘Don’t do anything rash.’ I cautioned, and reached for his hand, to beg him to please, not do anything rash. But then I froze,  _ what right did I have to tell him what to do anymore _ . My hand hung awkwardly in the air for a moment. Before it dropped weakly to my lap.

Silver reached past me for my boot, but found the sheath empty, he shook my shoulders, ‘where is your knife? Els you’ve lost your knife.’  _ He was still calling me Els? _

‘It’s burnt, not lost.’ 

‘You swore on your knife. You promised me-‘

_ Sod all of the rules, clan or not. He was my little cousin, I would always protect him.  _ I grabbed his hands, and held on for dear life, ‘the promise is in my blood, not on some stupid knife. Hawen’d have to bleed me dry for it to not stand.’

‘Hawen?’ He repeated numbly, as though my confirmation had merely secured what he had believed to be fact. I watched his jaw work,  _ he’d called me the stabby one,  _ I thought with fond amusement. 

He shook his head suddenly, then looked up at the guard who was clearly pretending not to have an interest in our conversation. ‘Give me that,’ he said, snatching the long dagger from the man’s belt. 

The man gave a faint murmur of protest, but allowed it.

I realised with horror what he intended to do. ‘No, Sil, don’t.’ I begged, and I tried to stop him, but couldn’t wrestle the knife from his hands. And for this morning, we were not evenly matched, he pushed me back easily and gave me a hard glare. 

Then he pulled his sleeve up and drew a line across the flesh at the top of his shoulder. ‘I have no father,’ he said to me solumnly and handed the short sword back, still stained with his blood.

‘Now we match.’

‘What did we do for him to hate us so much?’

Then as neither of us spoke for a long moment, my head sagged. The exhaustion was catching up again, and he moved to put his arm around my waist. ‘Help me,’ he snapped at the guard, and between the two of them, they helped me inside. 

  
  



	144. Embrium

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The girl with no name finds herself in the same room, in Vivienne's apartments of Halamshiral, she remembers it. Like a dream from another life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahhhh 4000 hits!! Thank you all so much for your support! I am so amazed and shocked and grateful! <3

‘-it’s barbaric.’ Vivienne snapped somewhere to the right of me. I opened my eyes, but blinked into the sudden midday sun. My eyes couldn’t quite focus, and the woman I thought was Vivienne turned out to be the closed curtains over the balcony door, billowing out gently with the breeze. 

‘And tell me about the Tranquil in your circle?’ Sil snapped back, but distracted as though his heart wasn’t really in the argument. 

I tried to sit up, frowned and braced myself for the pain. _My face didn’t hurt, why didn’t my face hurt?_ There was a dull taste in my mouth, like turnip and cream and sawdust all at once. Which explained why my face didn’t hurt, at some point while I was asleep I’d been fed an elfroot potion.

‘You are awake, my dear,’ Vivienne’s soft voice floated over to me, accompanied by her good self. She was dressed, in a shifting, shimmering gown that cast little sparks of rainbow light. 

When I tried to rub at my eyes, I found her hand had darted out to stop me. ‘My eyes don’t work Vivienne,’ I offered glumly. 

‘Nice try Els, her dress is just like that.’ Sil offered, flopping on the little chair by the balcony door. 

I blinked at the First Enchanter again, and she let my hand go, ‘I am sorry, darling, the wounds were too cruelly made, I did the best I could. But you will always have scars.’ 

Nodding, I thanked her, and gingerly reached out to touch the lines burnt into my face. They felt small, just three little raised lines. _Nothing, really. Everything, in reality_. 

‘Tell me, darling, what would you like us to call you?’ 

 _Oh shit,_ I bent over and started laughing. The echo of pain, spread across my forehead. They both looking at me like I’d done quite mad. ‘I guess,’ I spluttered, ‘you call me Inquisitor.’ Then my forehead began to split with pain again, ‘ow.’ I muttered, pulling up a pillow behind me.

When I turned back, Vivienne was holding out a new elfroot potion. I gave it a weary look, but took it all the same. Pulling the cork out with my teeth and downing the little bottle in two swigs. It tasted as bad as elfroot potion always did, but afterwards, the cooling numbness spread across my limbs. _Gods, it was good._ And I couldn’t remember why I’d stopped drinking it. 

‘How bad is it?’ I asked, suddenly? Realising that I was in the room that I had stayed the last time I was in Halamshiral, and noting the large mirror had been removed. 

‘Bad-’ Sil said.

‘Nothing to worry about-’ Vivienne answered at the same time. 

They exchanged a glance between the two of them, and Sil mouthed something I assumed was vulgar at Vivienne. Who simply shook her head. ‘Can one of you please bring me a mirror.’ 

The two exchanged another glance, this time Vivienne looked back with significantly more worry. ‘Darling-’ She began, but I cut her off.

‘Please.’ 

Reluctantly she nodded and swept away, across the room to the vanity table, and then brought my a little pocket mirror back. She paused before handing it to me, ‘are you quite sure?’ 

I nodded, and took the compact from her, clicking up open and looking at my face. Beyond the dark circles in my eyes, I recognised my reflection. My _vallaslin_ just as pale pink against my dark skin, only the three lines. Barely an inch across mared my face. I sighed, they were little enough, but visible from across the ballroom of the Winter Palace. _Everyone would know._  

Pricking pain, began to spring up again from the corners of my eyes, and I realised I was crying. Furiously I wiped my traitorous tears away, and looked up to Vivienne, ‘would you write to Josephine on my behalf? Let her know, ask Loranil to spread a message to all of the clans?’ 

‘What are you going to tell them?’ Sil asked, moving to perch on the edge of the bed. 

I looked at my cousin steadily, ‘they did this because we’d claimed Skyhold. Let them know, they are welcome to join us. Help us fight our common enemy.’

Sil took in a sharp breath, ‘ _all_ of them?’ 

Looking down, so I wouldn’t have to meet his daggerpoint glare, I nodded. ‘All of them.’ 

He was on his feet and out of the room two heartbeats later, muttering darkly as he went. 

Vivienne watched him go, and patted my hand gently, ‘I will write to Josie,’ then she dropped three more potions on the side table by the bed that I didn’t remember being there. And I was alone. The bottles sat there mockingly under a vase filled with fresh embrium, taunting me.

Before the door was closed, I had swallowed another potion. And with its numbness I drifted back to sleep. 

 

At some point later in the day, maybe early evening by the look of the light that still streamed through the open door, I saw a figure in the doorway of my room. 

‘Sil, I’m not going to change my mind about this,’ I snapped. And groggily rearranged a pillow. 

‘I am not here to attempt come to change your mind,’ said a voice that did not belong to Sil. 

‘Solas, I,’ I floundered. _How long had he been there._

His arms were crossed and he leaned against the doorface, a sorrowful look tearing his perfect features. ‘May I come in?’ 

‘Please.’ I struggled to sit up and reached over for another elfroot potion, to find the three bottles were empty. I cursed lightly under my breath, and tried not to let my utter disappointment show, as he sat beside me on the bed. 

His hand reached out for my face, carefully, ‘may I?’ he asked softly. 

Treading my fingers through his, I pulled his hand towards my cheek. Then regretted it, _Hellana could have gotten away with such familiarity, but I wasn’t Hellana anymore._ He didn’t seem to notice how conflicted I was, instead his gaze was fully taken up with the mess that Hawen had made of my _vallaslin._ His forefinger traced the patterns across the top of my brow, careful to not touch the fresh scars, then he moved to the branches beneath my eyes. _And I felt nothing, no sting or burning, the magic had truly left my face_. And I felt nothing, nothing but the flush in my cheeks inspired by my lover being so close. 

Solas sighed deeply and drew his hand back into his lap. ‘Vhenan,’ he began. ‘There is something I need to tell you.’ 

But I cut him off, ‘please, my love, I cannot bear it if you say anything about the Dalish right now.’ 

He looked up, almost shocked as though the thought had not occurred to him. ‘Do you think that I can here to taunt you?’ But before I could answer, he swallowed hard, and gave me a little nod. ‘Forgive me.’ 

It was my turn to cup his face, ‘what could you have possibly done that needs my forgiveness?’ I asked as honestly as I could. He called me vhenan, still, in spite of everything. And I wasn’t entirely sure I could believe it. When he didn’t answer, simply turned his head to plant a chaste kiss upon my palm. And then another. ‘I do have something I need from you, my love.’ Questioning eyes gave me the prompt I needed to keep going. ‘I have found myself in need of a new name, something… actually elvish this time.’ I laughed, the chuckle bursting forth, not entirely unwelcome. 

‘Any other criteria I should be aware of?’ He asked, serious and solemn. But he wrapped me in his arms, nonetheless. 

‘A girl’s name, if you please, in honour of Sylaise, if you can.’ I said with my cheek pressed against his chest. 

For a moment he held me tighter, ‘Sweet Sylaise.’ He repeated, breathing into my hair, the sound of it bitter and a little muffled.

  



	145. Into the Fire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Deshanna returns to Vivienne's apartments.

The evening sky was washed with a blush of pink, and hazy purple clouds drifted overhead. The say had been utterly beautiful, the summer heat bathing my skin and when I closed my eyes I was almost myself. We were sat in the courtyard, the little garden by Vivienne’s apartments. Glassy winged butterflies danced their way across the sweet scented flowers. I had a hipflask filled to the brim with elfroot that I was taken sneaky sips of. Vivenne had warned me not to drink too much, but had trusted me to help myself to her stores. The numbness was necessary. It was the night that Deshanna and I were set to return, and the ball of anxiety was drowned in the thick creamy potion. 

Sil was laid full out of his back, with his hands behind his head, having a perfectly odd conversation with Bastien de Ghislain. Sil was recounting an early adventure where we’d fallen through the floor of an ancient Dalish theatre, while the Duke swapped his stories for his own early misadventures in the Orlesian theatre. The Duke was looking particularly thin, and hacked into a neat lace handkerchief, which he quickly hid. Although he seemed bright enough to be surrounded by company. And his Mistress was never truly out of sight, Vivienne had given the Chantry Sister, who had been employed to nurse him, the week off, the moment she had returned. And this afternoon Vivienne had joined us in the sun surrounded by piles of Circle papers, that her work with the Inquisition had pushed to the end of her to do list. I would have said she was as interested as me, but she interrupted her love every so often to correct him on small details. 

‘Madam,’ the guard who had helped me inside four nights previous appeared, looking more than a little put out. And I knew Deshanna had returned. I heard the rattle of her beaded staff before I saw her. 

Sil was sat up in an instant, beaming. 

I couldn’t share his happiness, I knew what Deshanna would require of me. I had wrapped the bow I had made in Haven in a cloth and left it under the bench I was sat upon in readiness. I watched as Sil jumped up, clasping his aunts hands in his and they touched foreheads briefly. Then Deshanna made her move, a quick  _ shem  _ curtsy to Vivienne and Bastien, ‘Your Grace, Madam, forgive me, I have clan business to discuss with,’ she paused and her face tightened. The  _ vallaslin  _ in the shape of Andruil’s bow pulled taut, ‘the girl.’ She settled upon with a grimace. 

Vivienne was stood, and equal grim look of determination on her face, ‘Keeper, it is good to see you again.’ She began, as though she might shield me from my own mother. And crossed over to her, and touched her arm briefly and the two kissed the air above their others cheek twice. Vivienne still managing to look utterly elegant despite towering over Deshanna. 

‘You are welcome here,’ the Duke added, and cast a careless hand over his legs, ‘though I cannot stand to greet you.’ So they merely nodded at each other. 

Then Deshanna twisted her ring around her finger and turned to me. The sorrow was etched across her face, ‘you know what I’ve come to ask of you.’ 

Drawing on Hellana’s strength, I pulled the wrapped bow from under the chair and sat it on my lap. Then I paused for a long moment, looking down at my wrist and tugged my woven hunters’ bracelet off. I placed it on top and handed the bundle over to her. 

‘And your knife?’

The shame bubbled up in me, ‘it’s already burnt, Keeper.’ 

‘How could you be so foolish, little hare?’ Deshanna demanded of me, wearing an expression that I had previously only seen on Dirthanna. Her harsher mirror image. 

I could not respond. 

‘Wait, now?’ Sil gasped, outrage screaming from every pore. 

The Keeper turned to her Hunter, ‘Hellana is dead, and the rites must be performed.’ 

The words ripped through me,  _ there had been so many funerals.  _

Deshanna gave Sil a pointed look, ‘the fire must take it, though it is a shame no one is here to claim any of this.’

He glared at her, and then her words seemed to filter thought, ‘wait,’ he said again, eyes darting wildly. ‘The, the,’ he was fumbling over his words, trying to recall the correct formula. ‘I claim the bracelet, it belongs to the Hunters and to the Hunters it returns.’ 

The Keeper waited a moment, before she nodded, and handed him the bracelet.  _ Good,  _ I thought, something that the fire couldn’t have. 

Sil stared weakly at the bow, but couldn’t come up with a reason for taking it. And I didn’t mind. The bow itself was proof to me, that I could claim another. Then he looked around us, ‘where is  _ the First?’  _

Deshanna took a small breath, and the bow on her face relaxed, ‘Clan Lavellan no longer has a First, the little wolf-cub was taken by into Clan Hawen, to replace the First they lost.’ Then she turned back to me, ‘I have spent the week defending you. The Hahren’al agree that Hawen should not have acted as he did, they would have renamed you, but you were gone.  _ What _ possessed you to leave?’

I couldn’t help glanced up at her, her warm brown eyes searching my very soul. ‘I don’t remember.’ I told her honestly.

‘You were  _ seen _ , riding off on Torchbearer, who brought you the hart?’ She demanded. 

That was a question I could answer, ‘Moherinal.’ I breathed. 

Her nose wrinkled for a moment, ‘may he serve clan Hawen as faithfully.’ Then she turned to Vivienne, ‘is there a place we could light a fire?’ 

Vivienne’s calm gaze passed between me and my mother. And when she saw I had no objects, she nodded. ‘There is a fire pit, beyond the roses.’ 

‘Excuse me,’ I murmured, and backed away. Heart hammering in my chest, I didn’t wait to see them light the fire, or speak the words that would guide my soul to Falon’Din. Aimless I wandered through Vivienne’s apartments, down corridors I had not seen before. Until I caught sight of them through a large paned window. 

I could see Sil and Deshanna kneeling before the firepit Vivienne had described, just beyond the roses. The butterflies morphing into moths. And I watched as Deshanna raised my bow above her head, and laid it gently into the flames. I hit my fist against the marble wall and a sob burst from my lips. To mirror them, I dropped to my own knees and swore I could hear the gods themselves laughing at me. 


	146. Marked

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The girl with no name finds herself in a strange dream, but what else is new!!

It was there, sat up against the marble wall with the hipflask empty of elfroot clasped in my shaking hands that Solas found me. The sunlight had stopped streaming through the window, to be replaced by twinkling starlight. 

‘Vhenan,’ he breathed, dropping down next to me, and wrestled the little hipflask from my hands and laying it on the ground gently. 

I twisted my head towards the window, ‘when the fire dies, Hellana is gone.’ My voice shook, and I could barely see him through the tears that refused to stop. I knew they would still be out there, still making a vigil to their lost clanmate. Because Sil was destructively loyal, and anything but would be a slight. And Deshanna obeyed the rules, because anything less was a failure, last in a long line of Keepers that had ended so abruptly with her. 

But what did that make me? Now my name was burning, a practicality that had been necessary from the moment Hawen had taken a brand to my face. I racked a self-conscious hand through my hair, I must look a complete state. I would be nothing.  _ Nobody. _

Though, if I did he did not seem to notice, rather he placed a hand firmly on my chest. So I could feel my convulsing chest pressing against his warm palm.

‘I don’t want to go, I thought I could walk this path, but,’ I shook my head and began sobbing a fresh.  _ Could he even understand my terror, my elvhen, undying lover?  _

He spoke then in elvish, although I realised it was more likely ancient elvhen, something that sounded resolute. And the only word I understood was  _ Falon’Din.  _

‘What did you say!’ I gasped, clawing at him with my weak hands. Before I slumped spent against the marble, and furiously wiped my face with the back of my hand. 

‘I said that Falon’Din may make no claim on you,’ he repeated, his dark eyes watching me. His lips slightly agape. 

_ What? He couldn’t make such a statement, but I clung to it, he had offered me sweet sacrilege and I wanted to drown in it. _ To accept it would be to turn away from my gods, to turn from my clan,  _ I almost laughed,  _ they had already given me up. ‘Promise me?’ I whispered, and flicked an unconscious glance up to the ceiling.

He didn’t say a damn thing in response, just picked me up off the floor. And put the shattered pieces back together. I cling to him because what more could I do? 

In silence he took me back to his room, which was just across the hallway, no wonder he had found me so easily. Though room was to overstate the matter. It was little more than a glorified broom cupboard even complete with a mop and bucket tossed lazily in the corner. And I remembered the comment that he’d made the last time we were here,  _ that Vivienne had given me a nicer room.  _ I didn’t know why he had claimed this room again, but didn’t question it as the bed was a soft enough. And I curled against his chest, and under my skin I could feel the beat of his heart, marking the moments that took me with every second further from being Hellana. 

 

‘ _ Am I interrupting your devotions, little one?’ A voice asked that I thought might have belonged to Josephine, except the accent was out of place. The accent clung to the wrong words, and I twisted to find the Divine stood before, she had seeming revived from her battle with Era’mis, although her hat remained cleaved in two. _

_ I laughed, a heavy sound in the back of my throat, as I glanced at her Andrastian garb ‘what devotions?’  _

_ She laughed as well, and then turned sombre, ‘do not let my little disguise fool you, perhaps I was hoping for too much that you might recognise me. You are so far from the People.’ Her words stung of chastisement, although not fully directed at me.  _

_ The silverite of her dress moved as she took a step closer to me, ‘maybe you do not know.’ Her pale lavender eyes watched me, and she reached her right hand out to me. My own marked hands raised to mirror her. And there, on her palm was an equal of my mark, this woman, whoever she was, was marked as well. ‘I hold the power of the Orb of Transformation, as you hold the Orb of Destruction.’  _

_ I pulled my palm back to my chest, clutching it as I reeled from this information, ‘who are you?’  _

_ ‘They called me  _ Mother  _ once,’ she said softly, and as she twisted her horned headdress became true horns. Halla horns.  _

_ ‘Ghilan’nain?’ I breathed, the shock of understand riped a whole through my stomach, ‘ma evanuris,’ and unconsciously I dropped to my knees.  _

_ ‘It speaks!’ She delighted, and clapped her hands together gleefully. A heavy red bangle on her wrist dropped halfway down her arm. ‘So understand, what I tell you to be true, your mark will kill you, as surely as it killed the one that bore the mark before me. For only death can take the power from you.’  _

_ There was a howl from somewhere in the distance, and I blankly registered that we were stood in an ancient forest.  _

_ The goddess laughed again, and grabbed my wrist, pulling my marked hand up, ‘he’s coming for you, when he does. Be ready.’  _

 

The dark was all engulfing, except the green light that was my ever present guardian. I filtered through my own fingers, which were clutched by Solas’ pale hand. He was still asleep, and pressed against my back, He was still asleep, his legs filled the hollows of my bent knees. I didn’t move as to not risk waking him, so I remained locked in place, with my whole body curled around the power of the god that resides which resided, for now, within me. 

Whatever warnings Ghilan’nain had given to me, they paled into comparison with the message she had unwittingly given be. I looked down at my marked hand, while gave off its own green luminescence,  _ I was alive _


	147. Interrogation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She's looking for answers after a particularly odd dream, and comes up with an interesting way of getting Solas to talk.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning - this chapter is all smut, but with a sprinkling of plot!

The light that peaked in through the line under the door to tell me that it was daytime, but without windows I couldn’t be any surer of the time than that. As I’d woken up, I realised with some satisfaction that I was still pressed up against Solas, and his erection was prodding back into the cleft between my thighs. I gave myself a satisfied little smile, but when I tried to move away his hand dropped sleepily to my hip, to try to stop me leaving. He moaned softly against my neck. The sweet sound made it way straight through me. 

I refocused my efforts and wriggled back against him, no longer having any will to leave. His fingers dug into my hipbone, desperate and urgent, as though that would bring us closer together. Then just as suddenly as it had begun, he was gone, pulling away from me to roll onto his back. The absence of his warm flesh was practically painful. 

‘ _Ir abelas, vhenan_ ,’ with a sleep heavy voice. And when I twisted to see him, he had a tortured expression upon his face, as though he had committed some terrible impoliteness. 

‘ _Tel abelas,_ my love.’ I replied just as quickly and flipping onto my other side, my head propped up on my elbow to see him. _He had nothing to apolgise for._  

He grimaced, with a slight smile upon his lips, a look I knew perfectly as _your accent is terrible vhenan._

I shook my head, and dropped a kiss upon his taunting mouth. He returned it after a moment with passion, breathing me in and tasting me with that sweet tongue. I pulled back a little, no further away than I had to be, ‘I had the oddest dream,’ I offered. 

And he glanced down at my lips for a desperate moment, before turning his dark gaze onto me. And offered a quizzically raised eyebrow instead of a question. 

‘Do you remember in Crestwood?’ I asked, and his face tightened, his expression turning as firm as ironwood, ‘I saw Ghilan’nain again.’ I waited for him to twist the goddess into the shape of a demon again, something not to be trusted, but he simply gave me an impassive look. So I continued, raising my left hand, ‘she has one. The Orb of Transformation she called it.’ 

A single line in his neck twitched. 

‘Is this the part where you pretend to have no idea what I’m talking about, and I learn in a few months that you knew all along?’ 

His statuesque mask cracked, and his gaze darted about as though looking for the right words. And there it was again, that spark of fear, like he hadn’t planned for this, like things had gotten terribly out of control again. 

Using his moment of uncertainty, I made my move and straddled his hips, and he gave me a brief look of alarm. Before I reached between my legs and guided him into me. His eyes fluttered closed. And I sank down until he was fully inside me, and then I paused, ‘perhaps we should start with an easier question?’ 

Dark eyes flashed open suddenly, and his tone betrayed his annoyance, ‘is this an interrogation, vhenan?’ But the little urgent thrust of his hips told me different.

I pulled my messy hair to one side, and rolled my hips, providing a hint of desperately needed friction. ‘Consider it a mutually beneficial exchange, if you must,’ and I gave him a wicked smile, then paused and asked seriously, ‘would you like me to stop?’ 

Slim fingers found my hips as I had expected them to and his hands encouraged me to movement, ‘not just yet.’ 

‘So what does the Orb do?’ I asked as I rocked forward and back in a fluid motion. 

‘Andruil claimed,’ he began and broke off with a growl, and placed a pressure on the small of my back to guide me down to a more delicious angle. ‘Claimed,’ He licked his lip, and began again, ‘that it would transform anyone into what they really were.’ 

Fighting to keep my concentration, I nodded and bit my lip as I ground into him, ‘and what did it really do?’

The hand at my hip turned urgent, ‘mostly turned people into rabbits, to provide her better sport.’ 

 _I’d seen it,_ and as I remembered the dream I’d had in Crestwood, I slowed for a moment. Before I realised what I’d done and redoubled my efforts. 

‘You are not surprised.’ He added blankly, and his fingers were no longer digging into my flesh. He’d slowed as well, his thrusts no longer meeting mine as we both learned something new about the other. _Was that why he hadn’t wanted to tell him? Some foolish attempt to protect me and my faith?_

I shook my head, and dipped down to kiss him fiercely, ‘I’m not surprised.’ I mumbled against his cheek. ‘And Ghilan’nain?’ 

‘She was clever, and she took the power of the Orb into herself.’ He answered swiftly, and then he whispered something that sounded like profanity, something ancient and beautiful and incomprehensible to me. It seemed as though my interrogation was over, and I’d get no more answers from him. His words were mixed with lingering kisses across the landscape of my skin. 

As the perfect rhythm of our movements started to fray, I began to come undone. My fingers found his shoulders to anchor myself to him, and clutching him to me I collapsed spent and satisfied to his chest. A few moments later he came undone with me. His arm wrapping around my waist, and I shuddered as he removed himself from me. 

Pressing kisses into my forehead he said spent, ‘did you get what you desired little Nightingale?’ 

‘Desired?’ I repeated back, and drew my marked hand along the lines of his chest, my half closed eyes seeing green smudges where I touched.  ‘Oh yes.’ _Maybe we could just freeze time here, just lie forever in this moment?_ Slick and spent. 

Then I laughed a little under my breath, ‘I am not sure Leliana uses such advanced techniques.’ 

He chuckled, ‘I am quite sure she does not.’ 

‘More fool her,’ I murmured against his skin, before leaning up to kiss him again. 'It works ever so well.'


	148. Technicalities

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Deshanna finds she needs to speak with her daughter, and she is not putting up with any nonsense.

The stables which joined into Vivienne’s apartments were utterly unlike the ones at Skyhold, for a start they were bigger and intricately decorated. With a high vaulted roof, and paved flooring lined a central walkway between twenty odd stalls. Each stall almost as big a good sized araval. I shook my head as I walked through, marvelling at the opulence shows to horses while the elves in the lower part of the city would often starve. 

We had decided to move out of Halamshiral this afternoon, to make our slow way back to Skyhold. I continued along the path till I found Torchbearer. 

Soppy thing tried to lick my face, as I approached, and I ducked away from his large grey tongue. Instead I patted him on the forehead and noted that his damaged horn had healed nicely. Although it gave him a lope-sided look, poor thing. Then, as though I was already old news turned from me to chew lazily at some cut fresh grass.

My ears pricked up, as I fastened the last buckle need to saddle him, I could hear my mother before I saw her. The beads of her staff shook, like a bell on an druffalo. Poking my head out of the stall, I watched as she walked past Solas, using her staff more as a walking aid than weapon. Solas made a comment in elvish, that I couldn’t understand. 

Deshanna clearly did, as she replied without looking back at him, ‘I am here to see my daughter.’ 

‘I thought your Keepers robbed you of that connection.’ He retorted back, leaning against a wooden timber. 

My mother flinched for a moment, her eyes closed and seemed to crumpled in on herself before righting her shoulders and continued a step, pretending to not have heard him. Though her hand flicked to the ring she wore, twisting it around her finger.

‘Oi!’ I shouted, and I saw Deshanna jump, while Solas only inclined his head to me a little surprised. But, I wouldn’t be pretending to have not heard. I poked a warning finger at him and sent a glare for good measure. 

He seemed unconcerned and returned his attention to the brown mare, one of the original ones gifted to the Inquisition by Master Dennet. 

Closing the little gate of Torchbearer’s stall, with a little more force that strictly necessary, I moved to meet Deshanna halfway in the middle, ‘Mamae,’ I said pointedly. Solas flashed me a look. 

She gave me a little smile, ‘actually, that is exactly why I am here. I’ve given your,’ she paused and glanced around the stables as though trying to find her words carved into the wood, ‘predicament,’ she settled on, ‘some thought. By the laws, you know I cannot offer you aid,’ 

‘Oh,’ was all I could say in response.  _ I wasn’t quite sure what I’d expected.  _

‘But when we get back to Skyhold, I’d like to,’ she paused. And reconsidered, ‘ _ da’len _ , I recently lost my daughter, and you remind me of her so much. Do you have a clan?’ She asked pointed.

I wasn’t sure at all where this was going, but she was without a doubt following prescribed words. She had a plan and I knew it would probably be best if I played along. ‘No, Keeper.’ I answered, carefully. 

‘Hmmm,’ she considered, tapping her staff, a small smile playing across her features as though she believed her act a little beneath us, ‘would you consider, Inquisitor, joining clan Lavellen? It may be beneath you, it is a small clan of course, but perhaps-’

‘Yes,’ I spluttered out, she’s found a loophole.  _ Of course she had _ . To invoke the title of Inquisitor had me pause for a moment, and then I drew back, ‘but is that even possible?’ 

She passed her staff between her hands, as though to say,  _ I’m Keeper, I can do as I please.  _ ‘If you wish it, I would adopt you.’ 

I simply stared at her, my last self-medicated dose of elfroot, still numbing my emotions. I should be excited, ‘but,’ I waved a hand across my face, ‘my  _ vallaslin  _ is broken.’ 

Her warm brown eyes passed over the ruins of my blood lines, and she tapped my chin, ‘then perhaps it is time to get your roots done?’ It was the final addition to my lines, the roots of Mythal’s tree, the roots that should properly mark a homecoming. 

Deshanna knew exactly what she was doing, I didn’t know if she could fix the mess that Hawen had made, perhaps nothing would repair the damage he had done. But she could add new lines, and negate the effects. Before I could speak again, she added quickly, ‘there is something else you must know. The Hahren’al, passed down a judgement on me as well.’ 

The little glean of hope that had formed in my chest, turned sour. ‘What?’

She sighed, ‘they wish that clan Lavellan leave Skyhold.’

I was shaking my head,  _ what was the point of rejoining the clan only to have to leave,  _ but she was smiling,  _ why was she smiling?  _

‘So, I asked,’ she buried a laugh, ‘if they would mind if I waited until the High Pass was clear,’ she dropped her voice a tone, ‘easiest way to get the  _ aravals  _ out safely of course.’ 

I blinked at her, ‘the High Pass?’ I’d never heard of it. 

‘It is a pathway that had been buried under a glacier for a few thousand years,’ Solas interrupted, his horse saddled and ready behind him. He had a grim expression fixed on his face. 

My mother turned, and gave him a subtle knowing look.

‘We’re not leaving then?’ I asked, and rubbed at my eyes with the back of my hand. 

Deshanna laughed, and gave me a look of mock horror, ‘of course we are, just as soon as the glacier melts.’ 

I scoffed, and then I laughed, and then I couldn’t stop. Until I was bent over with tears streaming down my face. I rested my arms on my mother’s shoulders and pressed our foreheads together. ‘Thank you,’ I whispered, ‘for looking out for me.’ 

Then a sad little smile broke across her face, and she touched my cheek gently, ‘you protected the clan, _ little hare _ , the clan will protect you.’ She drew back after a long moment, taking my hands in hers and holding me tight, ‘you think I would let that awful little man take you from us?’ She pulled me into a lung-breaking hug, ‘gods themselves will not drive us apart.’ 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much Locked, for inspiring me to rename this chapter to something much more appropriate!! <3


	149. Born of Fire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some names are given, others are chosen, and some are bestowed by the gods.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is dedicated to the wonderful Fenhello, who not only let me steal the name Nesterin from the fantastic Nesterin Lavellan of The Promise fame, but also helped me come up with a truly terrible list of names. Thank you so so much!! <3

I stretched, pulling my arms over my head and picking the knots out of my spine. Sil and I had just finished making camp, Vivenne had made herself scace, and I couldn’t quite blame her. And I didn’t allow Deshanna to worry herself with the heavy lifting of setting up tents. I hadn’t quite realised how much work the Inquisition agents did on our behalf. It had been a tough evening, made more difficult by the fading sun. 

We had not chosen the most direct way back to Skyhold, rather diverting into Feralden and skirting along the Frostback mountains and down. This was to stick to the Imperial Highway for as long as possible, and to avoid any run in with Clan Hawen returning to the Dales. 

The Highway had been as clear as I had ever seen it, and for four days we seemed to be the only travelers on the road. The quiet uneased me, and I gestured to make camp. Away from the road. We turned out mounts from the well trodden road to find a little clearing a good half hour away. Far enough away that we couldn’t be spotted by bandits, but close enough that it wouldn’t take forever to find our way in the morning. 

I slumped down by fire, mercifully, Solas had taken care of the job of starting our fire.  Though, it felt like a cheat as he had used magic and was done before the first tent was erected. And I pressed my palms out towards it, warming them and rubbing the ache from my wrists. 

Solas was sat closeby, scribbling on a scrap of parchment. ‘What are you working on?’ I asked, leaning over to peer at his work.

Resignedly, he handed me the parchment, and sat back with a grim sigh, ‘names.’ 

‘Oh,’ was all I could say, and my eyes skimmed the page. On the right was a beautiful collection of elvish calligraphy, and to the left of them were immaculately transcribes with a transliteration and transcription. 

 _Linderinanae_ _  
_ _Nesterin_ _  
_ _Garasiras_ _  
_ _Geniseshena_ _  
_ _Suhenial_ _  
_ _Isermahiol_ _  
_ _Silvaleran_ _  
_ _Titanna_ _  
_ _Dahalanise_  
Haminirhalam

I nodded and scanned through them, then flashed Solas a confused glance, and looked through them again, ‘these are,’ I trailed off, _they were terrible_. One of them literally started with the word tit, I watched him for a moment, waiting for him to produce the real list. But he didn’t appear to be joking. 

Deshanna moved over to stand by me, and prodded a slim finger at the paper, ‘Silvaleran?’ she queried, ‘that’s Sil’s name.’ 

Sil looked up, he was playing with a stick he’d found and was twisting it between his fingers, and grimaced and then stuck out his tongue as though he was disgusted by the idea, ‘don’t want that one.’ He snapped the stick in two and tossed the parts into the fire. 

‘No,’ I agreed, faintly amused. I scanned quickly for another name, ‘Nesterin?’ I shook my head, ‘sounds like it’s an old book about a girl and her horse.’ 

Deshanna touched my arm, ‘what about Istimaethoriel, you were named for her anyway.’

I rubbed my eyes, ‘ _she who loves the mother of fire_ , it isn’t terrible, just a mouthful.’ Then I smirked, ‘I would love to see the Orlesian nobles try to pronounce it.’ Then I looked back at the list, ‘and what does,’ I picked one at random, ‘Geniseshena mean?’ 

Solas was watching closely, dark eyes watching intently, ‘it means _born from ash_ with the feminine ending.’ 

 _He had to be joking,_ ‘how utterly Andrastian, I never would have guessed.’ I said, to which he didn’t respond. 

Sil jumped up, and smirk on his face, and snatched the list from my hand, tearing the paper and leaving a shread in my hands. I scoffed at him, annoyed, only to watch him walk thirty paces away. Before turning back to us. ‘Go on,’ he shouted back. ‘Pretend I’m not here.’ 

Deshanna gave me a look, ‘what is he up to now?’ 

‘Gods know.’ I replied, about to invoke Dirthamen to deal with that one. 

Although Solas got there first, throwing me a chilly glance, ‘I doubt that any could fathom out your cousin's actions.’ 

My mother squeaked a little laugh out, and when I turned to question her, she was studying her Keeper’s ring intently. _Odd._

Solas gave her a careful look, and then the lines of his face grew tight for a moment. 

‘Tit-anna!’ Sil bellowed, perfectly emphasising the potential name in two parts. 

Making me jump from the sudden shout, but then I pointedly looked away, ‘I’m not even going to respond to that,’ I muttered and tried to ignore my cousin’s howls of laughter that followed. Then I offered Solas an apologetic look. He shook his head by way of a reaction, and I could almost imagine his chastisement about the Dalish not respecting the integrity of ancient names or something along those lines. 

Sil put a hand on his hip, and walked a few paces around tapping at the list. ‘Garry… Garahhshheeehas?...Garasiras?’ 

Shaking my head, and chuckling to myself. I wouldn’t be responding to that one either. _At least Sil was having fun._ I perched myself by the fire, ‘these are hopeless, my love,’ I offered to Solas. ‘I am sorry, that you went to-’

‘Iseshena!’

‘What?’ I yelled back instinctively, my annoyance flaring as I grew bored of Sil’s game, before I sat up suddenly, it was close enough to Hellana that I recognised it without knowing it, ‘wait! What was that?’ 

Sil same sprinting over, broad smile on his face and he pushed a braid out of his face as he reached down to pass me the torn paper, ‘Iseshena.’ He said excitedly. 

The paper had torn clean the name, and I smiled, and glanced up towards the open sky. _Practically fated, was it? I could hardly turn away from such good fortune._ Then I frowned, ‘I’ve heard it before,’ then I glanced to Deshanna, ‘where have I heard that?’ _Was it a figure of legend perhaps?_

She scrunched her face up, thinking. But after thirty heartbeats wasn’t able to come up with anything at all. 

I traced the elvish runes, ‘Iseshena,’ I repeated again, the name settling in my heart like a spark of hope, and I could feel the name on my skin, growing to become a part of me, ‘what does it mean?’ I asked awed. 

‘Fire-born,’ my mother answered quickly, but not quickly enough.

‘Born of fire,’ Solas also offered at the same time. 

They passed a quick look between them, dark eyes meet warm ones, and did I even see the hint of a smile from Deshanna?

My fingertips brushed against the raised burn scar on my forehead, _born of fire_ , ‘perfect.’ 

 


	150. Phoenix

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Iseshena gets back to Skyhold, first step, tavern.

It was a relief to finally get back to Skyhold after our time on the road, Solas had retreated in on himself as seemed to be his habit in large groups. While Vivienne had integrated herself with my family to such a degree, that if she was a foot shorter, I couldn’t have imagined she’d been brought up Dalish. She had happily drunk hundreds of my mother’s cups of various herbal teas, with a grace that even Sil had not managed. 

I knew the moment I saw the great gated of Skyhold that I should report directly to the War Table and give a full account of our excursion, as Cassandra had called it. But instead my feet took my to the Herald’s Rest. I would need to tell my friends, but suspected the tavern might be an easier location to try to explain it. 

As I pushed through the heavy wooden door, the drifting sounds of Maryden playing a sad, slow song hit me. I closed my eyes for a moment and will the music to not be fortuitous. 

Krem was first to spot me, as always he was sat close to the door. ‘Hellana!’ He called in greeting. 

Though I smiled, because it was good to see him again, I felt a bundle of tightness wrap around my waist, ‘actually, I’m called Iseshena now.’ 

‘Nice!’ He replied, then smirked, ‘Iseshena!’ He repeated in the same tone of greeting, and stood to put his arm around my shoulder to push me through the crowds to the bar behind which the perpetually grumpy Cabot stood. ‘Have you heard about the Qunari?’ 

And the tightness unwound itself, I had expected that conversation to be far me difficult. ‘Qunari?’ I echoed back, and flicked a look across the tavern, where I could just see Bull’s large horns. ‘I have heard of him.’ 

Krem laughed, and smacked the bar with his open palm, which caused Cabot to throw him a scowl. ‘Not the chief, he’s heard from his Ben-Hassrath lot, the Qunari are proposing an alliance with the Inquisition.’ 

I stared at him for a long moment, long enough that Cabot had pushed two large frothy mugs of Ferelden ale our way, and was not even a little bit subtly rubbing the handprint Krem had left off his pristine polished wood bar with a damp cloth. ‘How long have I been gone?’ I asked incredulous, and I couldn’t quite understand what could have happened to make our war-like neighbours to the north suddenly want to strike a deal. 

‘Too long!’ He announced, before dropping some coins on the bar and pushing me towards the horns I saw poking above the crowd. The Chargers were sat in the corner near Bull, in different stages of drunkenness. Bull seemed the most sober, keeping a watchful eye over his charges. 

Bull noticed me first, ‘Boss, good to see you back in one piece.’ He slapped his thigh, before offering me a seat. We exchanged a look, one that told us both we’d talk business tomorrow, tonight was simply about settling back in. 

‘You too,’ I said, taking the offered seat by the them and just letting myself breathe in the stale beer smell and stink of the Inquisition's soldiers. It felt good to be back. I would have to deal with the rest of them soon enough, but for now. This was a good place to dip my toe back in. 

Skinner nodded to me, ‘any news from Halamshiral, Hellana?’ 

Krem smacked her on the back of the head, ‘she’s Iseshana now,’ then he gave me a wiry look, ‘amatures.’ 

The dwarf, Rocky, who was too short for his chair, swung his legs happily, with a drink next to him at least twice the size of his head. ‘So,’ he slurred a little, ‘Changing anything else?’ 

The question took me a moment to register, and as I was working it out, I saw Dalish’s face fall as she saw the damage on my face. The worried coil around my belly was back again, tight and painful and I wasn’t sure I could breathe. ‘No, I’m the same, just with a different name.’ I added distractedly to him. 

Dalish stood, and passed me an incomprehensibly look, ‘they got you good.’ She acknowledged tightly, and then lifted the corner of her sleeve to get at the bare skin of her shoulder. Where she held three matching burn marks.  _ She’d been unnamed as well, the mage that wasn’t a mage.  _ Maybe she’d refused to be traded at the Arlathvhen, and I couldn’t say I blamed her. Although it seemed a mighty steep price. I didn’t do her the unkindness of asking why. 

We passed a moment in mutual horror, at the things that had been done to us, and a moment to mark the lost of the people that we used to be. Then Dalish smiled, her brilliant green  _ vallaslin  _ making her eyes seem brighter as she worked through the translation. ‘Iseshena, fire-something.’ 

‘Fire-born,’ I offered weakly. Bull was watching intently, and I couldn’t help wondering if it would be in his next report back. 

Krem’s face lit up, ‘like one of those phoenix,’ he gushed excitedly. 

Rocky looked as confused as I felt, ‘what’s that?’

Krem’s enthusiasm was not even the slightest bit dampened, ‘you know the birds,’ he flapped his arms, as though that would help with our understanding. Then he frowned and dropped his arms and sort of coughed, ‘maybe it’s just a Tevine thing, they’re immortal fire bird that are born from flames.’

‘Never heard of them,’ Dalish offered. 

Krem frowned, ‘they might be mythical.’ Then he passed me a sly look, ‘I’ll bet Dorian’s got six.’ 

Rocky laughed so hard he fell off his chair. 

I reached out a hand to help him, but at that exact moment someone slammed directly into the back of me. Slossing what was left of my ale all over the dwarf on the floor. It was only the hoarse cry of ‘Inky!’ that clued me into the fact that I wasn’t being attacked. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Huge thank you to DoreNaEgoSum, who clued me into the parallels between Els and the Phoenix myth! Thank you so much for all of your support, and I hope you enjoy the references I've added <3


	151. An Unexpected Guest

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A Magister has arrived at Skyhold, demanding to speak with Iseshena.

I woke with a jolt, face down on the wooden floorboards of Sera’s room. She’d pulled a face at  _ Iseshena,  _ and told me it was weird and elfy, before convincing me to buy her and the Chargers a round of drinks. It was good to know that Iseshena was as predictable as Hellana for always ending up here, and has the same drunken distaste for the stairs of Skyhold. 

There was a frantic knock at the door, quiet but persistent. Most likely that had been the sound that had woken me up. ‘Inquisitor,’ a voice hissed from the other side of the door. 

As I sat up, rubbing the sleep from my eyes, the effects of the evening’s indulgence hit me all at once. My stomach twisted over, and my mouth felt like I’d licked sawdust. 

Sera was still asleep, her leg was bobbing to a dream and she was muttering, ‘eat it demons,’ at a vision only she could see. 

Tossing a blanket over her, I found the door knob and stepped into the dark tavern. There was an agent there, ‘there’s a Magister at the gate, demanding to speak with you.’

‘Who?’ I asked groggily. 

The agent lifted his hand to check a faint note scribbled onto the back of his hand, ‘a Magister Sulpha.’

I laughed, ‘never heard of him.’ Couldn’t the Magister wait until I’d been back for more than a day. I wondered how the world had managed to keep turning in the three weeks that I had been away. ‘And what does he want?’ I asked, and rubbed my face with the back of my hand. 

The agent shuffled his feet, a little unsure, ‘to speak with you.’ 

_ Well it was almost certainly an assassination attempt _ . My mind offered in a voice that belonged to Cassandra. ‘Sure, I’ll meet him.’ Then the drunken dagger beneath my Temple reminded me that I was in no fit state to be meeting anyway, probably smelling like I’d just stumbled out of a tavern. ‘Actually, give our guest a room, tell them I am busy this morning.’ I corrected, ‘I can meet with them this afternoon.’ I said diplomatically. 

The agent nodded, about to turn away.

‘Let Commander Cullen know we have a Magister here, tell him to keep an eye incase there trouble.’ I hoped the Templar wouldn’t mind being given guard duties, but I knew I could trust Cullen to not be provoked into doing anything rash. Last thing we needed was the Tevinter Imperium taking a serious interest in the jumper up elf amassing her army to the South. And so far, they had made no formal comment on Corypheus or the Venatori, and I suspected they were waiting for the outcome before throwing their hat into the ring. ‘And can you get someone to find Dorian, Leliana and Josephine? I’ll meet them in the War Table.’ 

Looking a little alarmed at my list of instructions the agents eyes flew up for a moment. But he nodded to me, and gave my a boot tap and salute. And then he was gone. 

Walking slowly down the stairs, trying to remember what Josephine had taught me about the correct greetings for Tevine nobility, I almost walked straight past Bull. He was still sat in his usual place, and I wondered if he’d even gone to bed, he flicked a hand towards me and ushered me over, ‘Boss, the delegation will be arriving this afternoon. So there’s-‘

‘What delegation?’ I interrupted with a sudden sense of foreboding.  _ Fenedhis. The qunari Krem has told me about the night before.  _

Bull squinted his single good eye at me. ‘The two,’ he paused and I could see his eye drift out of focus for a moment as he translated from qun last, ‘I guess we can call them emissaries,’ he finished although the word had a shaky quality as though he wasn’t quite sure. 

I ran a hand through my hair, ‘any chance we could delay them?’ 

He leaned forward on his knees, his horns tilting back as he studied me. ‘Why do you want to delay them, boss?’ 

‘A Magister has just turned up, and last I heard Par Vollen and Tevinter were at war.’ 

Bull frowned, and scratched at his ruined eye, ‘they think we’re at war,’ he huffed a little incredulous, then looked at me as though he just remembered I was in the room. ‘This may be a problem.’ 

 

Bull waited patiently with me in the War Room, luckily in silence, which I was grateful for as I didn’t have the stomach for small talk. I paced back and forth mumbling the correct Qunlat greetings under my breath to ensure that they would stick. Practicing until the harsh sounds until they rolled off my tongue easily. 

On the way up to the castle, Bull had briefed me on the two qunari delegates, a woman called Rasaan who was apparently very important for reasons that involved a lot of Qunlat words that I didn’t really understand. And an elf convert called Gatt, who had an explosive temper. 

Dorian entered the room, looking as immaculate as ever. He smiled when he saw me, flashing his teeth. But his smile dropped a little when he spotted the immense weight that was The Iron Bull. 

Bull blinked at him, and Dorian turned away. Moving to stand as far away from the other man as humanly possible in the little room, and seemed to find the massive chandelier carved from the petrified roots of an ancient tree above us immensely interesting.

‘What can you tell me about this Magister, then?’ I asked him, drawing his attention for the moment.

Dorian frowned and licked at his lips, ‘sad to say I’ve never heard of the man. And so I don’t have the foggiest of his intentions.’ 

‘Useful ‘Vint,’ Bull commented with a smirk. Which made Dorian blush for some reason. 

The Tevine stammered, ‘yes, sorry.’ And wouldn’t look me in the eyes. 

I didn’t have a chance to think about their oddness and the door to the room pushed open and Josephine and Leliana appeared. 

‘Inquisitor Iseshena,’ Josephine began, clearly having been briefed already on my change of name. And I was thankful to whoever had passed the message on. ‘Magister,’ she glanced down at her clipboard, ‘Vaward Sulpha.’ Has arrived, but so far will not inform us of his purpose here. ‘It is more than possible that he is working for the Venatori.’ 

‘I have had no luck in finding out his ties, he has no family nor background.’ Leliana added.

Josephine glanced at her, ‘it is possible that he is using a fake name.’ 

Leliana nodded, ‘that was my thought.’ 

Dorian glanced up, and paced across the room to Josephine’s shoulder, to peer intently at her clipboard. 

I shrugged, ‘shall I meet him and see what he wants then?’ 

‘I cannot guarantee your safety without knowing who this man is,’ Leliana stated, blankly, betraying no emotion. 

The chuckle that broke my from mouth echoed darkly around the large stone room. And I was about to make a quip about how safe being Inquisitor really was when Dorian cursed loudly. I turned to him, and he looked ashen. ‘Come along, I think you should be safe.’

‘You know this man?’ Josephine asked.

‘Too well,’ he snapped and turned upon his heel and paced towards the door. His boots clicking forcefully against the tiled floor. 

With a final look towards the others, I followed Dorian out of the room

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Brownie points for anyone who can guess who the mysterious Magister is! :D


	152. The Magister's Demands

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Iseshena meets the Magister, and finds him to be rather distasteful. My best attempt at a different kind of Last Resort of Good Men!

‘Very clever, you rearranged some letters. Did it take you all the way from Minrathous to come up with that?’ Dorian snapped as he barged his way into the Magister guest quarters.

I trailed behind, a little unsure and hung back by the doorway. Spotting Cullen stood unhappily to the side. ‘I’ll be here if you need me.’ He nodded to me. 

‘Dorian,’ a heavily accented voice spoke, calmly. ‘I was expecting the Inquisitor.’ 

‘ _That will be my cue,’_ I mouthed to Cullen, who wasn’t even looking at me anymore. I sighed at my wasted attempt at humour and turned to the room. 

From behind, I saw Dorian huff, his hands on hips, ‘I’m surprised you bothered to come, aren’t you worried about being seen with the dreaded Inquisitor?’ 

I flinched for a moment, and pretended it was intentional, coming to stop in the doorway. The Magister was an odd sort of man, a man of extremes. He was overdressed and the hem of his robes were caked in mud. He had a soft round face, but hard eyes and tight thin lips that were currently pursed at Dorian in disapproval. Then the Magister’s eyes turned to me, stood in the doorway. ‘Yes, good, I asked for some towels half an hour ago.’ 

I didn’t move, just gave a weak cough. Dorian shifted uncomfortably. ‘I should probably introduce you, father-’

‘Your father!’ I exclaimed, without waiting for Dorian to finish. The man looked nothing at all like Dorian, and despite the gap in ages, I would not have guessed. I stepped forward a little, ‘well you did ask to see me.’ Dorian watched me, and I could see the flair of panic behind his eyes but it was purely directed to his father. 

The man I took to really be Magister Pavus, glanced at me, confused. His eyes lingered on my forehead for far longer than strictly necessary. ‘And who would you be?’ He asked in a drawling, bored tone that I suspected I knew exactly where Dorian had picked up from. 

I stepped forward, my left hand raised in a sort of salute, and stretched my right hand out. To shake his hand, in the _shem_ way. ‘I’m the,’ I glanced to Dorian, I couldn’t help the smile that passed across my lips at mimicking his words ‘ _dreaded Inquisitor.’_ In a burst of inspiration, I realised my relationship with Dorian’s father was probably already ruined so I continued, ‘you know I have some very important Qunari dignitaries to meet soon, so would you say whatever it is to say.’ 

The Magister looked as though I’d spat in his face, and then he glanced down at my hand. Still held out confidently to greet him. Slowly, he reached out and sort of pressed his hand against mine for the barest of seconds and flinched back as though I might burn him. What I would have done for a spark of magic to turn the illusion into life. The Magister turned on his son. ‘Your mother is worried about you, I’m worried about you.’ And his gaze fell on me again, trying to cow me, ‘I demand you let him return home.’ His tone was clipped, formal, in a voice that tried to demand obedience. 

‘You demand? Do you think I am here against my will?’ Dorian snarled, his temper flaring. He strode across the room, to a little bronze jug that stood on a little table and poured himself a glass of wine. Drained the cup and tossed it back on the table with a thump. It rolled and hit the floor with a clatter.

The Magister sighed, and tried to reach for his son, 'this is a difficult path you've chosen.' 

Dorian smacked his hands away, 'chosen? This is who I am, not a choice.' Then he pulled back, a snarl across his lips. ‘You, tried, to, change, me. Or did you forget?’ 

His father scoffed, but flushed a little, ‘please, that was years ago. Can we not move past it?’ 

Dorian laughed in a way that told me he didn’t find it amusing in the very slightest. ‘No.’ He said coldly, drawing all the heat out of the room with his one word. Then with a slight, mocking bow at his father. He turned on his heel and stormed from the room. 

Magister Pavus sighed, and bent to pick up Dorian’s discarded wine cup. Setting it carefully on the table, then he poured more wine into the cup. He jumped when I coughed. And it took him more than a moment to realise I wasn’t leaving. I coughed again, and dipped my head towards the jug. Uncertainly, the Magister poured me a glass and handed it to me. I wondered if it was the first time the man had poured a glass for an elf, rather than the other way around. His fingers lingered on the goblet for a second longer than they should, ‘ _you_ wouldn’t understand.’ 

‘What wouldn’t I understand.’ I countered, tipping the glass around to check for poisons before taking a sip of the smooth red wine. 

He flicked his gaze over me again, and I wondered if he was trying to unsettle me with his curiosity. ‘Linage, family, bloodlines.’ He sighed. ‘We come from an ancient line, it needs to be protected.’ 

‘Ahh,’ I acknowledged, unsure of where this was going, ‘my mother’s heritage stretches back from before the fall of the Dales,’ I offered. Wondering if we could find some common ground. 

‘So how does,’ he paused, considering his next words, ‘your kind deal with abnormalities?’ 

The wine turned to vinegar in my mouth, ‘abnormalities?’ _Were the_ shem _suffering the same as the Dalish? Was Dorian’s magic failing?_  

Before I had the chance to ask any more question, the Magister continued, ‘so what would _your_ mother do if you started bringing women home?’

Like a pebble dropping off a bridge and into the stream below, I understood with a horrible grim certainty. I laid my cup down gently, ‘I see,’ I said stiffly, ‘perhaps you should take a few days to recover from your journey, and then be on your way, Magister.’ I was about to leave, but then caught him staring again at my _vallaslin,_ ‘Oh and for the record, when I did bring women home. My mother never tried to change me, perhaps you should take some lessons from us.’ I left, schooling my own fury to not slam the door in his face. Instead, with purposeful motion I closing the door softly until I heard the click of the latch. 

Cullen was stood, his eyebrows close together. We exchanged an empty, guilty glance, and it seemed he had overheard. I gave him a look, a silent command to keep the last little exchange to ourselves. ‘Inquisitor,’ Cullen began, and pulled nervously at his collar. 

I raised a hand, ‘Commander, would you please ensure our guest is accompanied by an agent at all time.’ 

‘Of course.’ 

‘Where did Dorian go?’ 

‘Library.’ I walked to the end of the corridor, and then when I was sure my footsteps could not be overheard, I started running. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And the award for Father of the Year goes too...


	153. Bob

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Iseshena can't find Dorian, but luckily Leliana can!

After sprinting up the stairs, past a concerned Solas, I found the library empty of Dorian. Swearing under my breath, I leaned over the bannister. ‘Have you seen Dorian?’ I called down. 

But it was the sweet Orlesian accent from above that gave me an answer, ‘I thought he was with you.’ 

I craned my head up to see Leliana, a raven on her gloved hand and a concerned look on her face. She was directly across from me in the circular space. She shook the bird off, who gave her a ill-natured squark.

‘ _ Fenedhis _ ,’ I hissed, and the sound echoed back to me. Putting my head in my hands and rubbing at my eyes with the fingertips of both hands, I tried to think of all the places he could have gone. 

There was a tap at my shoulder, and I turned to see that Leliana. I glanced up at the empty space on the floor above where she had been moments earlier, and I wondered how long I’d been just stood there. ‘Josie wishes to see you, in her office.’ She gave a searching look around the room and moved so the soft purple fabric of her hood grazed against my ear, and even so close, her voice was so quiet that I strained to hear her, ‘The qunari, will get here in an hour.’ 

She pulled back, and gave me an urgent look. 

So reluctantly, I pushed off the bannister and made my way to Josephine’s office. Resisting the urge to give Leliana a mocking salute. 

As I pushed into the main hall, it was packed. Filled as usual, with people with nothing better to do that gossip near the seat of power. 

I glanced over at the  _ seat of power,  _ while I had been away, Josephine had commissioned an artist to update the throne. It was a slim bench, with a large carved wooden back decorated with stylised flames. Sil started at it in horror when Josie had first unveiled it, ‘a very Andrastian chair,’ he’d called it. I’d smacked his arm and told him that the Andrastians didn’t have a monopoly on fire imagery. As pretty as it was, it was ultimately a flat wooden bench and I couldn’t help but wonder if that was the point,  _ the seat of authority should not be comfy.  _

As I considered this I managed to walk directly into a rather thin Orlesian woman, wearing a very high collar that made her neck look particularly long. ‘Ohh, Inquisitor,’ she cooed, her hands wafting about her as though she might be trying to shoo away invisible flies. I was utterly not in the mood for entertaining Orlesians, but as I tried to find my good grace I spotted her mask. 

It was oval, and pale cream, with a mint green edging that made her face look like a pastry. But it was there just over the lines of her brows, delicate swirling golden lines. ‘What’s that,’ I asked, although the question was redundant, I knew exactly what they were trying to be, ‘on your face?’ 

‘Ahhh,  _ ‘erald,  _ it is the  _ petie _ gold lines, like that you wore at the Winter Palace, when you saved our Empress, do you like them?’ She puffed up like a pigeon. 

‘Madame,’ I began. 

She raised a little delicate finger, and corrected me lightly, ‘Comtesse Roberta, my friends call me Bob.’ 

I gave her my best attempt at a gracious smile, ‘apologies, your Ladyship, I merely wished to respectfully ask that you return to your chambers and change.’ Her fluttering hands froze for a moment in midair. Like butterflies ripped out of the sky and pinned in a l epidopterologist’s collection.  ‘Or, I shall have to ask one of my Agents to escort you from the castle.’ And I turned from her. 

‘So, you do not like them,’ came her sorrowful, dejected reply from somewhere behind me. I didn’t wait to see if she would leave.  

‘Right,’ I announced, as I burst through the door of Josephine’s office. Clapping my hands together as I did so. Josephine looked up from her desk, and Marina was sat on the sofa, her legs crossed. One ankle bobbing happily.  _ I was expecting more people.  _ Feeling a little foolish, I added, ‘you wanted to see me?’ 

Marina laughed, and perched up on the arm of the sofa, ‘rather,  _ you  _ need to see me. This,’ she clicked her fingers and pressed her eyes together tightly, trying to remember, ‘Rasaan. I met her old boss.’ Then she stood suddenly, eyes drawn to my forehead, ‘shit, Merrill didn’t mention they’d got your face.’ 

‘Well, I haven’t seen her, have I?’ I replied, with a little more force than necessary. 

Marina’s jaw clicked, ‘I’m not going to fight you on this, Inquisitor,’ she snapped back with a tone that underpinned her words. Her arms crossed over her chest disapprovingly, ‘she isn’t hiding from  _ you.’  _

‘I never would have let here drink from that damned Well, if I knew it would make her terrified of Skyhold!’ I retorted. Without really meaning it, but maybe I should have just let Morrigan take the Well. 

‘You cannot be that naive?’ Marina exclaimed, her hand flying about her head, and staring at me as though I’d sprouted another head. 

‘What is that supposed to mean?’ I snarled, quietly, deadly low. 

‘Ladies.’ Josephine interrupted in a tone that was like ice water, ‘there are perhaps, forty minutes, if we are lucky, until the Qunari get here. Whatever this is, can wait until after.’ Josephine gave us each a precise look, almost daring us to keep fighting. 

Marina was the first to call a truce, ‘look, Merrill misses you, and we’re staying with Deshanna. Come down and see us.’ 

I nodded, not quite looking her in the eyes. I was still furious, still angry and riled up from my encounter with the Magister. But that wasn’t her fault, and I shouldn’t be taking it out of here. I took a deep breath, ‘I will.’ I promised. 

There was a little knock at the door and a moment later Leliana slipped through, closing the door behind her and pressing back up against the door. ‘I’ve found Bull,’ she announced, and then began giggling, which was particularly disconcerting. ‘He’s just getting dressed.’  

‘Of course he is,’ Josephine tutted, but allowed herself a single little smirked. 

Covering her mouth with her hand she crossed the room to me, still trying to stifle her laughter. ‘I also found Dorian.’ 

‘Ohh?’ I murmured. And noted the look Leliana gave me. ‘Ohh!’ I realised, colour flooding to my cheeks and feeling utterly, ridiculously, naive. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 'What should I call this chapter?'  
> 'Bob'


	154. The Arrival of the Qunari

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rasaan and her delegation arrive at Skyhold, ready with a bag full of difficult questions of Iseshena.

The Qunari were extremely punctual. Nether a moment late, nor early. It began with a drumming, slow from the other side of the main hall. And I could just spot from the raised dias the crowds parting quickly, as people scrambled to get out of the way. I glanced to Josephine, but she was just staring directly ahead, her quill limp in her hand. She was caught up in this bellicose spectacle. 

As the qunari approached, I realised that I had been wrong about the drumming. There were no drums, just four incredibly burly, shirtless qunari marching in such a tight unison that each of their combined footfalls echoed around the large space. The two at the front each carried a standard, held perfectly straight above their heads. The one on the left carried the diamond symbol of Par Vollen, while the other a more complicated symbol that I had learned was the office of Rasaan. 

Of the things I had been briefed on Rasaan, I was not expecting the tall qunari woman that approached, tall even by qunari standards. It seemed no one had bothered to tell me, or know that she was a woman. Her skin shone as though she was bathed in a rose light, unlike the varying shades of grey of her male honour guard. And there was a lot of her skin on display, two slim bandages crossed over her breasts, and I was grateful Sera wasn’t about to make a lewd comment. But, as Sera would have said,  _ wow. _

Every one of her movements was tightly controlled, perfect, precise. Her eyes darted around the room, as though she was noting weaknesses. Then they rested upon me.

I had no idea what she saw perched on the flamed throne. Josie had tried to wrestle my hair into some semblance of style, and promptly given up. So I’d suffered through Loranil’s clumsy attempt at hunting braids, which were already falling out. And dressed in a borrowed gown, and so long as I didn’t raise my arms, the tell-tale darts to show that it had not been made with me in mind, would remain hidden. 

Rasaan flicked out her hand, to the side of her and her guards stopped in a single movement, as though they were one entity. She continued a few paces until she was barely ten paces from me. I stood, with as much grace and dignity as I could muster and stepped forward. Then I stepped down from the dias, on a level footing, equals. 

She reached out a hand, which was covered in criss cross ribbons of red paint.  _ Vitaar,  _ I knew if we met on the battlefield it would surely be poisonous to my touch, but Bull had assured me that were countless types, most ceremonial and non-fatal. But then he’d smirked and made a winking comment about a certain kind of  _ vitaar,  _ used to stimulate, to which Dorian had sighed and refused to make eye contact with anyone after. 

I took her hand, clasping her forearm, in the qunari style, and she did likewise. Her hand encircled my arm, while my hand mostly lay flat against the taut muscles of hers. ‘I am told I should call you Iseshena.’ She said, her voice, light and sweet with an accent I couldn’t place.

Nodding, I smiled, ‘Rasaan,’ I gestured towards my quarters, ‘shall we?’ 

In silence, we moved from the hall, and through the door. She left, all but one of her guards behind, who remained motionless since they were no longer needed.  

The circle of eight chairs had been arranged to make two sides, with a small table in between. Bull and Marina were waiting for us. I settled on the far side of the table, Joseie taking a seat beside me, ‘this is Josephine,’ I introduce, ‘and I suspect you already know Marina and Bul-’

‘Hissrad,’ she said warming, clasping his forearm and turned to Marina with a dark look, ‘basvaraad,’ she said curtly, ‘I should thank you for returning the tome of Koslun to us, and though you failed to return the thief. I found her.’ 

Marina fingers tightened noticeably around her staff, but she did not reply. And I suddenly wondered exactly what Marina had meant when she told me she  _ knew how to handle qunari.  _

‘Gatt!’ Bull exclaimed, and I suddenly noticed there was an elven man there, hidden by the colossal mass of Rasaan’s standard bearer. 

The man grinned and exchanged a few pleasantries with Bull, until Rasaan silenced him with a look. Rasaan took up the seat directly opposite me, sitting with a posture made of metal. By her Gatt took the seat on her left and indicated behind her, ‘and this is Arad. He doesn’t talk much.’

I glanced at the man behind her, and decided it wasn’t worth the questioning. ‘Wine?’ I asked, reaching forward to pour everyone a glass. 

Once the cups were distributed, Rasaan didn’t waste another moment, ‘you understand that the Qun has never come to the aid of Southerns before?’ It was said as though it wasn’t really a question, ‘not because you do not excel at tearing yourselves apart. But because we cannot trust you.’ Her head turned to Bull, and the jewelled broad collar at the her neck twisted with the movement. ‘Can we trust this Inquisition?’ 

He had not picked a side, and was lent against my desk on the other side of the room, one arm crossed over his chest and studying his wine intently. He considered for a moment, ‘you can trust Iseshena.’ 

Rasaan laughed softly, causing the strips of cloth around her breaths to shake, ‘high praise indeed for a woman who hates her own name.’ 

_ What?  _ I glanced up, aware that I’d been caught staring. Flushing a little, I stammered, ‘I do not hate my own name.’ 

‘Inquisitor?’ 

I couldn’t suppress my the hint of a flinch from the title. ‘That isn’t my name.’ I offered weakly, and I was quite sure she was trying to bate me. 

Rasaan blinked at me slowly, carefully, with almond shaped eyes, ‘to cut away a part of yourself, is to gorge out an eye.’ 

_ I wished she wasn’t so pretty, it was like June himself had crafted her.  _ ‘Perhaps, but I would rather be half-blind than not be who I am.’ 

The heir of the Ariqun, flicked a disdainful glance in Bull direction. ‘So who are you?’ 

I took in a deep breath, my heartbeat fluttering in my throat. My mouth was dry andI took another swig of wine. That was the question, wasn’t it?  _ Who am I? _


	155. Believe in Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Iseshena and Rasaan began deliberations that could shape the very future of Thedas. Iseshena just needs to answer the most painful question of all, who she is?

_ Who am I?  _ Rasaan had asked me, and I didn’t have a good answer for her. ‘Maybe you should stay a while and find out,’ I answered more confidently that I perhaps should have, and after hearing my own words it sounds like I was flirting, flirting badly. 

Marina started coughing, and I was suddenly very aware that I was speaking too much. I tapped her lightly on the back. She looked up, ‘sorry, breathed my wine.’ 

Even Bull chortled from the sidelines, but when Rasaan commented something in Qunlat to Gatt, he froze. I knew him well enough to know he was on edge, like he’d head a twig crack on the outskirts of our camp.

Rasaan turned to me, the candlelight glinting off her horns, giving them a deep pink glow, dazzling like dawnstone. ‘You do not follow the Qun,’ she began, in a tone as though she was speaking to a child, ‘so what are your morals, your principles?’ 

I gave her a quick smile, ‘I’m Dalish,’ I began. 

But was cut off as Rasaan waved a delicate hand dismissively, ‘I’ve been told of your,’ she turned to Gatt, and offered a word in Qunlat in questioning. 

‘Religion.’ He translated a moment later into Trade. 

‘Your religion,’ she reiterated using the translation. Then reached forward and picked a cup of wine from the table, swirling it between her hands and took a long drink. ‘I have never met your gods, nor do I understand your worship. What is the point?’ She studied me with her brilliant golden eyes. Like the once shining city of Elgar’nan, her eyes were stained the colour of victory.  _ There would be no hiding my soul from her _ . 

I took another sip from my wine glass, it was tart was smooth on my tongue, ‘worship is a gift, willingly given.’ I replied easily, remembering everything taught to me by my Keeper. All of Deshanna’s musings of the philosophy behind our daily actions. 

Curious golden eyes held mine, as though we were the only two people in the room, and for that moment we might very well have been the only two people in Thedas who mattered. The course of history was the clay being moulded between our hands, ‘and if your gifts stop?’ 

My palms spread openly in front of me, and replied as honestly as I could, ‘nothing. Nothing happens.’  _ Nothing bad, and nothing good.  _ I broke her eye contact to glance to the balcony door, my shrine lay just behind. My gods right there, ever present. I returned to her gaze, and whatever the gods had fated for us. 

The muscles around her eyes twitched, but her mouth made no move to smile, ‘so you worship powerless gods.’ 

It took all my will to not laugh, what a thing to say. But then I doubted myself for a moment,  _ how could I be qualified to have this conversation? Because the wolf had kissed my hand? _ ‘Forgive me, I am not qualified to debate matters of deep faith with you, perhaps my Keeper,’

‘No, I want to know what you think. Yours are the hands into which I am placing the lives of my people.’ Rasaan said calmly, cutting me off. She looked pointedly at the green stain against my left palm and I twisted my hands together self-consciously. 

It seemed there was no weaseling out of the topic, and I glanced for a little reassurance, assistance, anything. But found Marina and Josie watching in rapt interest.  _ Dread Wolf take the lot of them,  _ I thought unkindly,  _ one of them could defend me.  _ I took another sip of wine, ‘I do not believe my gods are powerless, but then again I do not worship my gods for power.’ 

I could read the question of  _ why  _ in her eyes before she voiced it to the room. 

‘I believe because they are my gods.’ Then I shook my head, ‘I don't want to claim them as within my possession, but rather I know them intimately, I recognise their footprints in the world, I am wrapped in the mysteries of their stories and learn from the mistakes in their myths.’ I paused and set the cup down on the little table between us. ‘They are the looking glass through which I can make some sense of this meaningless world.’

Rasaan said nothing for a long moment, weighty each of my words, then softly asked. ‘Do you think my world meaningless to me?’ 

I laughed a little, a breathless sort of sound, ‘I suspect your Qun gives you meaning.’ 

‘You think they are equivalent?’ 

‘I think for us to be allies,’ I replied carefully, ‘we should at the very least assume they are.’ 

Rasaan lent back in her chair, breaking the solid, uncompromising posture to settle into a pose that looked altogether more comfortable. ‘The Qun demands the very sacrifice of self, for our greater purpose.’

‘You’re asking me what I would sacrifice for my faith?’ I asked a little unsure. 

Rasaan gave me a small, virtuous nod, ‘would you die for your gods?’

‘Gods? No, fuck them.’ I said, and Marina snorted, and then gave me a smirk. I shook my head at her antics. Pushing her derision away,  _ I could not afford to be distracted _ . Taking a steading breath, I continued, ‘I’d die for my clan, my people, though,’ and I tapped my forehead twice with the fingers of my left hand, ‘technically, I already have.’ 

Her eyes flicked to the three raised scars that remained on my forehead, surely Bull would have sent her a full report. She knew exactly what I had done, the exact meaning of the fading lines on my face. ‘And what if it was my people?’ 

‘I will do everything in my power to protect your people.’ I said fiercely, firmly, from the fire-scorched part of my heart. 

Rasaan gave me a weak smile, ‘perhaps it is time for an easier question, Iseshena, we are offering two dreadnoughts, what would you do with them?’ 

Finally a question that didn’t terrify me to my core, ‘the one that controls the Waking Sea controls the trade and flow of troops in that area. I know the Venatori are using the Storm Coast to restock men, food and weapons. I’d use the dreadnoughts to take out their supply lines.’ 

The rose-skinned Qunari gave me the barest hint of a nod, ‘that was our plan as well.’ 

She stood then and held her arm it to me, and I stood and sealed the deal with a shake of her hand. And here it was, the finished product of our discussion. Simple words that shaped history. Rasaan herself had said it,  _ the Qun had never come into alliance with anyone, let alone a Dalish elf _ .


	156. An Offering to June

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With less than a week before they are set to leave for the Storm Coast, Iseshena spends the day and night repairing her damaged vallaslin.

_Hellana walked into the fire, Iseshena walked out._

Now was the day to put that promise into action. Tonight I would take my place as a part of Clan Lavellan, I would be formally adopted by Keeper Deshanna and be accepted as one of the hunters. It was almost as though nothing had changed and yet everything had changed. 

The first time that I took my _vallaslin,_ I was a sacred spit of a girl, looking for a sign of adulthood without really understanding what it meant. When the tribunal of gods had been called, the eight Keepers from neighbouring clans who wore the masks of the gods asking questions to discover to which one of them I should be given, I had been terrified. My answers hesitant and uncertain, why they had given me to Mythal had been a mystery. But, I was given to Mythal, _she who rose from the sea to save the sun._ Save the light, protect the warmth, be brave. 

I took a deep breath, _that was before_. Before I knew that Mythal had been murdered, cut down by something that wasn’t Fen’Harel. Before I’d been marked by his power, before the whole world changed. 

Now, there was no need to call a tribunal. I gave myself willing to the goddess of motherhood, who had never really been anyone but Deshanna in my mind. _The qun demands the sacrifice of self,_ Rasaan had told me. And I would give myself willingly, a new offering to the gods. 

Before me stood the woven standard of June, etched with his sigil in burnt orange against a background of pale cream. I stared straight forward at the design until I could see it carved on my eyelids. It was hung in front of me, on a standard pole buried deep into the ground. The cool earth smell was still fresh from the morning and it hung in the air, rich and loamy. 

_Lord who drew the first lines in blood, mighty craftsman who binds the people._

So I would sit there, in perfect silence until the moon rose, thinking on the gods. The only interruption was that Deshanna would appear to splash droplets of water on my face, to purify me. Eight times in total, to mark the hours, to mark each of the eight gods. She had come three times so far. 

My hands were raised around my face in prayer, and that was another small, subtle difference from the first time. This time my palms faced outwards. But the direction of my palms had not stopped the blood had drained out of my fingers hours ago, and my right hand had a tremor in it that I couldn’t shake, and I couldn’t lower my hands without forfeiting the rite of _vallaslin_. 

There was no shame in it, to give in, to place your own needs before those of the clans. But whatever discomfort I felt now, however the _vallaslin_ would burn when Deshanna wove new magic into my face, it would be a willing sacrifice. 

Once Deshanna had appeared again for the eighth time, she reached out her hands to me, to help me up from the ground. I took a moment as I stood to ground myself. And then I followed her to a secluded part of the clearing. She had laid a high table out, high enough that she could work over my face without bending. 

There was a little step in front of the table, and I climbed it carefully. Lying down like the offering on a great altar. 

‘If it hurts too much, cry out _da’len,_ and I will stop.’ Deshanna spoke the words, that Dirthanna had spoken before. Just before she had etched the pale pink branching lines into my forehead and cheeks. It had taken four hours, and I hadn’t even gapsed. My _vallaslin_ had been my canopy, to protect me from foul weather and misfortune. Hawen had tried to fell it, but now Deshanna would dig the roots deep. 

She did not let me see the bone needle, before she struck the first stroke. I knew it would be perfectly sharp and dipped in pale pink ink. The first point struck in the centre, just below my lower lip. I closed my eyes, and Deshanna paused, ‘would you like me to stop?’ She asked. Opening my eyes slowly, I glanced to my mother, sat to the side of me. 

I shook my head, and she nodded seriously and then continued. The line down from the centre of my lip to the end of my chin must have taken an hour. And I saw a waning moon trace it’s way across the sky. Fluffy clouds drifted past unaware, hiding and revealing the constellations etched into the very sky. It took another two hours to add the detailed roots the branched off from my main line, and Deshanna had changed needles twice. 

And the pain became hypnotic, each stab the tiny beat of a drum against my skin, each dot connecting to the one before it. Each branch creating a pathway, a new route, a road for me to walk along. Towards a future that was uncertain, but one that I knew I had the strength to walk. 

_Be brave, little hare. We are nearly done._

When my roots were done, Deshanna sat up for a moment. Moving the stiffness out of her wrist and finding a new needle, she examined my face for a moment. Then she gave me a look, and touched her own lip, where her _vallaslin_ divided her lower lip in two, ‘this will really hurt.’ She cautioned. 

Taking a steadying breath, I nodded. And then she touched the new needle into the flesh of my lip and my hands gripped the edge of the table and I ground my teeth together. _Fuck, she wasn’t lying._

Deshanna pulled away, to give me a moment to compose myself. ‘I will move quickly,’ she promised. 

I froze my face, refused to move as she worked. My lip was on fire, but I was _Iseshena,_ and I could walk through the fire. I forced on simply remaining still for the heartbeat, and then the next, and then… it was done. 

Deshanna cupped her hand across my cheek, carefully not touching the new lines. And muttering prayers under her breath she cast the magic into the _vallaslin,_ the devotion come alive to sit inside my skin. 

‘Iseshena Deshanna Lavellan, come along daughter the hunters are waiting for you.’ She said and helped me sit. And then she pulled me tight against her, and I hugged her back fiercely.

' _Ma serannas, Mamae,'_ I whispered against her shoulder. 

_Hellana walked into the fire, Iseshena walked out._


	157. Storm Clouds and Fireballs

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Iseshena takes a trip back to the Storm Coast. The nicest place in Thedas!

For the first time in recorded history it seemed, it was not raining on the Storm Coast. Although the clouds crawled above us heavy and dark, promising the eventual downpour that gave this part of Thedas its name. I wheeled Torchbearer around on the top of a steep rock face, keeping well clear of the edge as I knew only too intimately how the gravel cliffs liked to give way under the lightest of pressures. Without the constant rain, I could almost believe I could see the coast of the Free Marches, it seems like a dull misty patch on the bottom of the far horizon. 

The reports coming from that side of the Waking Sea had not been promising. It appeared that after the defeat at the Temple of Mythal, Corypheus’ forces had retreated there, seemingly searching for something while also taking the time to bolster their remaining forces with fresh recruits brought down from the Tevinter Imperium. I tried not to think of the ancient forest that I had ground up in being felled for Venatori warships, and I pushed the thought of the twisting cave that Sil and I had hidden from the open sky being used to grow new red Templars. 

The Qunari delegation had already left to meet up with their dreadnoughts, leaving the Inquisition to follow behind. Leaving us with Gatt, who for such a nondescript man was surprisingly talkative. Which gave Bull no end of pleasure, but I had needed to get between Solas and Gatt on one occasion when the talk turned sour. 

I’d been privy to the qunari’s detailed maps, where Rasaan had marked out a location that was deep enough for the dreadnoughts to come close to shore. From there the Qunari and Inquisition would set up a joint base of operations. To supply the dreadnoughts with food, water and weapons in exchange for their help in breaking the Venatori stronghold of the Waking Sea. The site she had picked was brilliant, a sheltered bay that would be a strategic stronghold. The only problem, we found the morning we arrived was that the Venatori had gotten there first. 

So after a morning of frantic discussions, we arrived at a solution. Our plan was simple enough, under the cover of darkness, infiltrate the camp, break their defences and light the way for the dreadnoughts to dock. Effectively providing us with the man power needed to remove the Venatori threat in one fell swoop. We would move two hours before dawn, hoping to strike the  _ shem,  _ unprepare and still dozy from sleep. 

It had all gone according to plan, at least to begin with. The Chargers had taken one side of the bay, while I led Gatt, Bull, Solas and Dorian to the other. Dorian had rather impressively caught a large tree to catch fire, effective creating a make-shift lighthouse to guide the dreadnoughts in. 

And then the alarm bells sounded, echoing across the bay. The skies had taken that exact moment to open, soaking us in torrential rain which slashed a diagonal path across the sky. It took moments for our visibily to be cut so badly, I could barely see my own hand at the end of my arm. And I could hear the crashing waves of the Waking Sea smashing relentlessly against the coast.  

Against the noise of the sea, I hadn’t heard the cries of alarm, the movement of troops. I only realised that the Venatori were very much away when I saw the torchs appear across the bay, half a hundred tiny pin pricks of light. A stone formed in my stomach, and with a desperate realisation, I understood that the Venatori had been very much prepared for exactly this kind of attack. Hundreds of them swarming like furious ants from from a kicked anthill. ‘Vint spells blasted through the air, a shot of lightning crashed two hands from my face and I ducked and rolled away from it. Within minutes the air turned thick with the stink of spent magic.

There was a break in the clouds, and the dull moonlight cast a ghastly silhouette show on the opposing hill. A small mismatched group were fighting a deadly and losing battle against a large group of Venatori zealots. The Chargers were utterly surrounded and I turned our party. Fighting our way up the hill was difficult, and the slossing rain made our rescue attempt even more difficult. The gravel threatened to give way beneath my feet and I was sure I would fall to my death in this damned place. 

But suddenly we were there, and fighting back with a renewed energy.  

_ We’d survived.  _

And more than that, we’d survived with minimal casualties, Stitches was crouched over Skinner, who’d taken an arrow the arm. But that was about the worst of it. Bandages flew from Stitches hand, caught in the wind like some wraith from a ghost story. And then we’d heard it.

**Creak-crash.**

The terrifying scream that tore across the waters and echoed around the bay. For a moment I thought we’d attracted the attention of a dragon, but I realised it was crack of timbre being torn across rock. The dreadnought had run a ground. 

‘It’s going to sink!’ I shouted at Bull desperately. Who didn’t even bother to turn to me, he was stood, his hand over his one good eye. Like a statue. Grimly he’d simply replied that dreadnoughts don’t sink. 

**Boom.**

Exploding with a force that shook through the night, and illuminated the sea with a roaring fireball that climbed up into the heavens themselves.  _ A cruel offering to Sylaise. _ The sparks rained down along with the rain, touching onto the deck of the other, until it too caught light.

**Boom.**

‘Gaatlok,’ Rocky had whispered awed under his breath. 

I’d asked Bull if we could help the survivors, but he’s only stared out at the scene blankly at the place where the final embers were being taken by the hungry waters.  _ There was nothing we could do.  _

In our dull, shocked silence, the Venatori had launched a new wave against us, and I’d called the retreat. Riding hard to Caer Bronach, which was the closest safe space we could retreat to. Gatt had disappeared by the time the sun rose above the horizon, and I knew it was to report our failures back.

Bedraggled and sodden through, we had stumbled into the Keep in Crestwood, after two days of hard riding. And it would be another four days of numb shocked silence before the Qunari sent their first assassin after Bull. I’d taken him a cup of tea, a ginger and elfroot brew, which had smashed on the floor as the man launched at Bull. Shouting something in qunlat. But Bull didn’t seem to need any assistance as he threw the man clean off the battlement. The assassin screamed and then sickeningly didn't. 

Bull walked to the edge and glanced over, ‘no your soul is dust,’ he spat after the man and turned to me. 

My tongue grazed over my still swollen lip as I considered my next words. I didn’t get a chance as he tightened his fists by his side, ‘tal-vas-fucking-hoth.’ 


	158. Games of Imaginary Chess

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Back in Crestwood, Iseshena spends an evening at Caer Bronach.

‘You’re an absolute madman, you know that right?’ I declared, a little too loudly, as I slumped on the edge of the borrowed bed. It was the same room that we’d stayed in last time wemd been at Caer Bronach. This time cleared and set up for guests. Waiting for a response, I reaching down to unbutton the clasps on my boots and kicked them off. 

Solas looked up a little perturbed at the sudden jarring interruption, and he simply placed a finger in his book to mark his place. He looked at me with an eyebrow raised as though to say,  _ I’m waiting, this interruption had better be worth it, I was just getting to the good bit.  _

I giggled at his expression, illuminated by the candlelight, a little too much wine was making me giddy. ‘Invisible chess, with Bull? Remember.’ I tapped the bed next to me, ‘I can play that game as well, come on, invisible Wicked Grace.’ I mimicked laying out two hands, and then sneaked a peek at his imaginary cards, ‘offfft, you have a really bad hand.’ 

He sighed and found his bookmark, setting the book down with a distinctive thump in a little carved wooden table beside him. Although he made no move to come to me. ‘The Iron Bull believes he will go mad, without the Qun to regulate his thoughts he doesn’t know which of his basest urges he will give into. I was simply reminding him that he could trust his mind.’

I nodded sobering suddenly,  _ he did have a way of making madness sound logical, ‘ _ so is that why you beat him?’ 

The barest hint of a smile touched the corner of his lips, which disappeared as his eyes traced my still swollen lip, ‘didn’t you need the same reassurances when your people turned from you?’ 

‘They didn’t turn from me,’ I glanced around for a pillow to throw and then thought better of it, the conversation had turned serious. ‘Bloody Hawen tricked-‘

‘And Gatt told them that Bull made the choice to save his Chargers, rather than keep the beacons burning.’ He stood, and picked up an opened letter from the table and passed it to me. I recognised it as Ben-Hassrath report, with Leliana’s notations on it.  _ It would probably be the last one we would ever receive _ . It felt heavy and hot in my hands, I folded it over so I wouldn’t have to look at the traitorous words. Then I dropped it on the floor, where it belonged.

I rubbed at my eyes, and sighed deeply, ‘I’m not sure I can cope with anymore lies,’ and I looked down at my marked hand,  _ I never used to get betrayed like this.  _ I flexed my hands, and then glanced up at him, ‘it just rolls off these days, I can’t even say I’m surprised.’ I hoped for a smile, or at least some kind of sympathy. I got a tight, worried look, like the one I’d seen before. ‘What?’ My voice was so quiet, almost as if I hadn’t spoken. 

The moonlight drifted through the little window, illuminating tiny dust particles floating through the air. The heartbeats ticked on, and I waited as he found his words. 

‘While we are here, there is something I need to show you.’ His words were careful, with a rehearsal quality. His arms were uncrossed, open with practised calm.  _ I knew him well enough to realise, he was caught off guard and fighting to keep the panic at bay. _

_ Fuck,  _ I acted without thinking, instincts trying to edge away from the dangerous topic. I twisted, so I was lying flat on my stomach across the bed, hand holding my head up. To give the illusion that I wasn’t in the least worried. ‘Alright then.’ I offered with a gentle smile. 

‘No,’ he breathed, and then looked at me with dark eyes, ‘not here, there is a,’ he cringed a little, and looked away from me, ‘a cave nearby.’ 

‘Mmmmm,’ I practically purred, ‘dragging me off to a dark, damp cave? You could just ravish me here.’ I patted the bed suggestively. 

Shaking his head at my suggestion as though I wasn’t giving this nearly the weight it deserved. But at the very least he was actually, finally smiling, ‘I think you will like it vhenan, there are some ruins.’

My hand dropped to my neck, fingers tracing unintelligible shapes at the pulse point there, ‘sweet talker, you know you can get me anywhere with the talk of,’ my eyes lingered across the shape of him, ‘ruins.’ 

‘As it would seem,’ then his eyes darkened again, ‘tomorrow, then?’ 

‘Tomorrow,’ I agreed, and frowned as he picked his book back up. Dragging my fingers across the sheets and I sat up, ‘and tonight?’

His eyes flicked up at me from the page I was sure he couldn’t be reading, ‘Iseshena, your lip has not healed.’ He noted gently, a kind rejection. 

My tongue touched gingerly over the line of my new  _ vallaslin _ , purely because he’d mentioned it. ‘And the rest of me?’ 

Pointedly he returned to his page. 

So I turned my back to him, then with a sly smirk, I pulled my shirt over my head and threw it behind me. Hitting with a satisfying sound on the open book. Carefully I looked over my bare shoulder. 

He was staring down at the discarded fabric, confusion turning to something more determined. I noted with some satisfaction that he was breathing a little heavily. 

‘Do keep reading, if it’s more pleasurable?’ I suggested and looked away. From the mirror on top of the vanity table, I couldn’t see his reflection, and I had no idea if my ploy had worked. Until I felt the bed dip.

Smiling to myself for a few heartbeats, till his fingers found my hips.  _ I’d caught him.  _

‘More pleasurable?’ He breathed against my neck and trailed kisses across my shoulder. Then his arm wrapped around my waist to pull me tightly back against the lines of him. ‘Impossible.’ 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Is everyone emotionally prepared for the next chapter?? Because I’m not! <3


	159. If You Would Wish It

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Iseshena and Solas find a cave, and Solas offers Iseshena something she doesn't know if she wants.

We rode out from Caer Bronach, on the back of Torchbearer, Solas taking the reins and guiding the way. I was hidden behind, my hands were wrapped around his waist. My body pressed tight against him. 

The sun was settling into early evening, and the dusk strained the horizon lavender. The first stars had already appeared overhead and the evening wind had dropped. There was only the slightest hint of a chill in the air, and I pressed my cheek into the pelt he wore over his shoulder. A good choice all things considered in this climate. 

Solas guided us north from the gates of Caer Bronach, and up into the hills surrounding the fortress. Then from seemingly nowhere a large reclining wolf statue appeared, and I tightened my grip on Solas. _He had after all promised me ruins._

Solas helped me dismount, and as he tied Torchbearer up, I bowed my head to the statue, ‘I’ve never seen one so well preserved,’ then I paused, that wasn’t entirely true, ‘except at Mythal’s temple.’ I ran my fingers lightly over the wolf’s flank, _elvhen_ , _from before the first whiff of betrayal._

I hadn’t noticed Solas approach behind me, till he laid his hand over mine, fingers entwined and moved it gently a fingerspan away. ‘Do you feel the ward?’ He asked softly, his breath was warm on my neck, almost burning in the cold night air. 

It was as though my hand was made of metal, and just a hair’s breadth from the statue was a magnet pushing me away. Imperceivable, unless you knew exactly what to look for. I nodded, and twisted back to look at him. His dark eyes were back, watching the wolf as though at any moment the ancient stone might roar to life. 

Taking me by the hand he led me into a small hollow in the rock, I pulled back only for a moment, weary. Before remembering to trust him, he’d never lead me wrong so far, ‘What was this place?’ I asked as he took me into the cave. 

The jagged scar in the rock opened up into a cavernous space that was bathed in pale blue light that hovered somewhere above. It was as though the moonlight had been filtered down to this one spot, or perhaps there was an untapped vein of lyrium pulsing out of sight. Tiny deep mushrooms grew in the tight corners, marking our way with caeruleum luminescence. 

‘When Ghilan’nain resided here, there was an eluvian here, but it was destroyed during the wars.’ He said revanently, as though the walls could hear, as though we were walking on sacred ground. _For all I knew, we were._

‘Wars?’ I questioned, voice tight. 

He drew to a stop in front of a little pool, behind it stood two magnificent hart statues, flanking a narrow gap that was exactly the size of Morrigan’s eluvian. There was a tear through the cave ceiling, through which I could see half a handful of stars. ‘The humans didn’t bring the fall of our people, we’d been tearing ourselves apart for generations before that.’ 

I leaned into him, and stretched up to kiss him. My lip burned with the sting of my new _vallaslin,_ but it didn’t overly mind. It was worth the fire to taste him. ‘Is this why you brought me here, for a history lesson?’

Breathing in lightly, and looking at me intently, he began. ‘I brought you here because you deserve the truth, _vhenan_ .’ Looking helplessly like a man condemned, ‘Iseshena, I,’ he searched my face with his dark eyes, till his guise settled on the new line down my bottom lip. And his features twisted with resignation. ‘I can tell you the truth of your _vallaslin.’_

I stepped back a little, ‘what do you mean?’ And my hand flew to my lip, tracing down the newly made roots. ‘They’re nothing more than what they are, magic mixed with blood,’ but then I trailed off, suddenly uncertain. 

‘They were used for a different purpose,’ he didn’t look away, just carefully offering up a piece of his past, ‘nobles used them, carved the lines on their slaves in honour of the gods they served.’

I kept nodding, although the words had flown in one ear and out the other, then I looked up through the crack in the cave ceiling, then back back at Solas. ‘What?’ My reaction more than a little detailed. _In our bid for freedom, we had found ourselves in love with the cage_. 

He sighed, ‘Iseshena, they were,’

Dismissively I waved a hand in between us, ‘I heard you, I just,’ I put my hand over my throat and started laughing, and then I found I couldn’t stop. Bending at the waist and trying to catch my breath. ‘Why didn’t you - tell me a week - ago?’ I panted at him through gasping breaths. ‘I wouldn’t - have got my - roots done.’ I rubbed at the vallaslin under my eyes, sending sparks of burning pain down my cheeks, _pain wasn’t scared, it was just painful._

Solas looked a little frozen, and not entirely sure what to do with his hands, ‘Iseshena?’ He asked with quite the note of concern. 

I pointed at my lip, ‘this _really_ hurts.’ My laugh turned hollow, ‘fuck.’ I muttered darkly as the weight of his words settled on me, smothering my previous good humour. My eyes twisted back to Solas’ face, _Solas’ bareface._ My hand reached out to cup his cheek, ‘you,’ I breathed and frowned my eyebrows furrowing, ‘your face…’ 

‘No one would have dared to mark me,’ he said quickly, not quite meeting my eyes. 

‘So, all that sex, politics and intrigue at the Winter Palace was not so unfamilar,’ I offered triumphant. _There was nothing to be done, no use crying over split milk._ Crossing my arms, with a far too smug expression of my face. 

He closed his eyes, but gave me a small smile nonetheless, ‘I spent as much time on the battlefield as in court, if not more.’

Tugging at his hands to make him look at me, and dragged him down to the ground next to me, so we were sat opposite, ‘nice try, which court? Tell me everything.’ I gushed excitedly. 

His lips pursed, as he tried to find his words, ‘all of them,’ he said a little confused, ‘Andruil to begin with, and I stayed with Ghilan’nain for a time… vhenan,’ he snapped a little sternly, ‘we’re getting off topic.’

‘Off topic?’ I gasped. 

‘I am trying to tell you that I can remove your _vallaslin,_ if you would wish it.’ 

I sat back, and tugged at a particularly long strand of grass by me knee and twisted the offending stalk between my fingers. Smiling sadly, I shook my head, ‘no one can,’ then I broke off. I had resigned myself to my unknowning fate, and he was offering a different path. A way to go back, _an easier road perhaps?_  

‘I can,’ he said, more firmly this time, ‘if you would wish it.’


	160. What is Left Undone

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Iseshena makes her choice, as does Solas.

‘If I wished it, would it hurt?’ I asked softly, without looking back at Solas. _If I would wish it?_ To remove my _vallaslin_ would be unthinkable, utterly unthinkable. It would be declaring that I had no faith in the gods or the Dalish, that I had forsaken them utterly. But to keep my _vallaslin,_ to wear these cruel marks. I looked away from Solas at the patch of ground where I had torn up the grass, in the patch of dirt was a tiny lavender tile. Gingerly I picked it up and weight it in my hand. Such a tiny thing, which held within it the full weight of history. I returned it to the ground and looked out over the little still pool that had formed at the feet of the magnificent hart statues. 

‘No,’ he whispered, in some sort of reverence to my turmoil. As though his words might influence me decision one way or the other. 

I looked back at him, and discovered he was blurred, and I was crying. ‘Get rid of them.’ I said, blinking away my sorrow. All of our histories were wrong, the elvhen had been just as savage as Tevinter, and unknowingly we’d kept the chains. Were the city elves, bare faced the descents of those that remembered - by forgetting they had chosen not to submit. The very thing we swore we would never do again. And yet, every single one of us is silently branded. Marked without malice in an attempt to be free. 

Was any of it worth reclaiming? Each scrap of knowledge I reclaimed was painting a terrible picture, each as perfect and immaculate as the little mosaic tile, but only when they were put together could they reveal the truth. 

He sat forward on his knees and shuffled close to me, his hands raised as though in prayer. ‘You’re sure?’

‘Yes,’ the word was torn from me, and I shut my eyes tight expecting pain despite his promises. Behind my eyelids, I could see the shadows of pale blue lyrium coloured light. 

He spoke something in elvhen, _to give, freedom?_

Blinding as the light disappeared I was momentarily night blind. I couldn’t see him at all. And as my eyes adjusted I found myself gazed upwards towards the stars, towards the place where the gods resided. I had cast them away, and I wondered if they could even bare to look at me. 

I stood suddenly, curious at what I had done, and moved over to the still pool, and crouched over, to try to peer at my reflection in the water. _I still looked like myself, just different_ . It seemed that despite all of Solas’ power, he could do nothing for the three scarred lines on my forehead. _It seems there was some things even he could not undo_.

When I turned back he was on his feet and had approached me, _some Hunter I was,_ I thought and smiled, ‘I look so young.’ I offered. 

‘You’re beautiful,’ he offered in return, and reached out to run a curled hand across my cheek. His thumb running across my lip, _it didn’t hurt._ He pulled back quick suddenly. ‘I need to leave.’ He whispered, in a voice that wasn’t quite his own. 

I nodded, ‘you’re right, let’s head back.’ I reached for him, but he stepped back from my touch. The question was on my lips. 

‘I,’ dark eyes fixed on my face, ‘Inquisitor, I am leaving.’

 _Inquisitor?_ All of the air in my lungs rushed out in a second, as though I’d been punched to the stomach. I stumbled with my words for a moment, but hadn’t I told him, months ago, _the moment it gets too dangerous you need to run._ When had I become too dangerous? Shakily, I nodded, ‘I understand.’ 

He started to back away, and then turned walking purposely towards the mouth of the cave.

‘Wait,’ my voice came out at a rush, my hands reaching out for some desperately sort comfort, ‘at least promise me you’ll write.’ I begged, I wasn’t sure I could do this without him. 

Like a statue he froze, and turned softly, confusion written across his features. ‘Iseshena,’ he said delicately, ‘I would not leave you to face Corypheus alone.’

‘Then what is this about?’ I demanded, pushing my hair from my face. 

Head bowed, he looked up to me, ‘you understand that I am distracting you from your duty, we can’t keep doing this.’ 

Like a dagger to my heart, I pointed at my face with both trembling hands, desperately trying to contain my fury, ‘you did this, and now.’ I took a deep growling breath, straightening with a rod of iron in my spine, ‘you’re dumping me in a cave? And you were just going to leave? Pretend that,’ I trailed off. ‘Fine.’ I gave him my best impression of a noble smile, ‘of course.’ I strode past him, straight to Torchbearer and began to untie him. 

Carefully he tried to pass me, giving me space. Like one would to an injured animal. 

I couldn’t stand his pity. ‘Where do you think you’re going?’ I snapped, flashing him a cold glare. 

‘Inquisitor?’ He asked, a little confused, and I saw his gaze wonder across the rolling plains back to Caer Bronach. 

Grinding my teeth to avoid saying something I’d really regret. ‘Get on the hart.’ 

Seemingly indecisive, he asked meekly, ‘is that a command?’ 

I barked a hollow laugh, which fainted echoing back to me from the cave, ‘we’re back to that are we?’ After a heartbeat when he didn’t reply, ‘yes, if you need it. If you still wish to be a part of this Inquisition, I can’t let you walk back and get eaten by a dragon, can I?’ When he didn’t move, I realised that after everything he still thought so poorly of me, ‘don’t worry, I’m not going to try anything.’ 

The way back seemed to take four times as long as getting there. I rode behind him, hands on his hips, fingers digging in - I suspected painfully, _I hoped painfully_. _But if was, he didn't protest._  I held myself carefully so I was not touching him, no accidently brushes of my knee, nor would I let myself sag against his back. The night had truly descended and the pleasant cool breeze had turned bitter. By the time we arrived back at Caer Bronach, every muscle in my body ached from behind held in such an awkward position. As we passed the gates and he slowed Torchbearer, I slipped from the hart, hidding the ground hard enough to send a shook of pain through my ankles. ‘Let me go and collect my things, you can keep the room.’ I said in his direction, and I marched off, leaving him to return Torchbearer to his stall. 

‘Fucking elvhen.’ I muttered under my breath, and pulled my hood up to shield my face from the worst of the wind.


	161. Sleep Will Come

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Still reeling from being left in a cave, Iseshena tries to find a place where she can discover who she is now.

Opening the door to our once shared room, I grabbed my pack and worked systematically from one side of the room to the other. Shoving things randomly in my pack, without a care. Removing every trace of myself. I’d already decided I need to pray, or scream at the sky. _Something. Anything_. 

I was almost done when the door creaked open. ‘Forgive me, I will leave,’ Solas said, voice a little hoarse. 

His voice shouldn’t have come as such a surprise to me, but I still dropped my pack. It hit the ground with a thud, and I glared at it. _Traitorous_ . Then I straighten my back and turned to him, remaining as calm as I could. ‘Come in, I’m almost done, then I’ll be out of your hair.’ A heartbeat passed and I glanced to his bare scalp, and I laughed. _Gods forgive me,_ I laughed so hard. The utter absurdity of the evening crashed around me like churned up waves against the shore. _He’d tried to leave me in a cave?_  

He didn’t laugh. 

‘Where will you go?’ He asked softly, too carefully. Prying, but giving me the space to tell him that he wasn’t entitled to my inner thoughts. 

I stopped laughing and bent to pick up my pack. Pulling the loop of the strap over my shoulder. Gesturing upwards, ‘I think I need to be under the sky right now.’ 

He crossed an arm over his chest, fingers adjusting the sleeve of his other arm. ‘It’s freezing out there.’ 

 _It was._ I gave him a patronising smile, ‘you really learned nothing about the Dalish did you? We were born to endure more than a little cold.’ _I wanted, I needed to get back to myself. Needed to know if I was still Dalish or not._

Solas had no answer to that, instead he crossed the room and pulled the fur off his shoulder. Folding it neatly on the bed. He turned and opened his mouth to say something, but words continued to fail him. He crossed instead to the window, and leaned against it. His knuckles white with the effort to find words, _or to hide the words he wanted to say_. 

‘I guess, this is us.’ I said, as I sucked in a breath, my words had such an air of finality. 

He looked up, dark eyes watching my every move, ‘don’t go.’ He said so quietly, I wasn’t sure that I had even heard him correctly. But I could see, as he shut that part of himself down, cutting out his hard and turning to stone, he couldn’t look at me as he finished, ‘I can leave, it seems unfair for you to lose the room as well.’ 

While I believed his offer to be genuine, I considered for less than a heartbeat, ‘and where will you go?’ I asked, sounding almost curious. He wasn’t the sort to buddy up with the agents, or turn to Dorian or Bull for support. He’d be just as left out in the cold, only not willingly. 

To my question, of course he had no answer. Although he surprised me with a small sheepish glance upwards to my now bareface, ‘it is _freezing_.’ As though I didn’t realise exactly what I was doing. 

The folded fur on his bed caught my eye, ‘if you’re so worried about the cold, I can always requisition that.’ He looked alarmed at the thought, which added to my spite. ‘Consider it the,’ _last duty,_ ‘last thing you can do for me.’ 

I didn’t wait for the answer that probably wasn’t coming anyway, snatching the fur up off the bed and I left the room without looking back. 

 

Tucking my cowl down over my changed face, I walked across the battlements, till I came to a secluded area near the base of one of the towers. A pair of agents were discussing their home lives as I approached. One of the turned to me, ‘who goes there.’ 

Without a word, I simply lifted my hand. The green glow radiated into the night. 

‘Inquisitor,’ the other gasped. And they scrambled to attention. 

‘Forgive me agents,’ I said with a brush of my hand to excuse them their solemnity. ‘I will be needing the tower tonight.’ The first one gave me a little bow and they began to move away. ‘Actually,’ I called after them, ‘does either of you have a spare knife on you?’ _Old habits died hard, and I knew I’d need a knife under my pillow to keep the bad dreams at bay._

The second pulled back her tunic and pulled a little dagger from a sheath at her waist. And she handed it over, hilt first. She seemed a little awed that I was even there, even talking to them. ‘Thank you,’ I said sincerely, and tucked the knife into my boot. It was a little small, and I hoped I wouldn't lose it. ‘Would you also ensure that I am undisturbed?’ 

‘Of course, Inquisitor,’ the first said and the two backed away. Giving me the space I wasn’t sure I wanted, but knew I needed. 

Pushing into the door of the empty tower, I picked my careful way up the half-rotten stairs and showered myself in dirt and grime and I heaved the trap door that lead to the tower’s roof. Pausing on the ladder, I pushed the dust from my face and coughed a little. _We should have sent some of the Inquisition funds this way._

Abandoning my pack by the trapdoor, It really was cold, and the bitter wind battered the tower even more than I’d been expecting. ‘Sweet Sylaise,’ I swore. 

I pulled the fur around my shoulders and realised with horrible certainty that I’d made a terrible mistake. _It smelt like him._ A sob rose in my chest and I didn’t have the energy to push it away, the iron in my spine melted away and till I wasn’t sure what was left. 

Pulling a bundle of clothes from my pack and wrapping them up to form a pillow. I pulled the too small dagger out of my boot, it’s metal stark and cold against my skin. Rolling onto my back I gazed up for a long moment, the stars looked so distant. As though they no longer shone for me. Squeezing my eyes tightly shut, I slumped on my side and tried to get some sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Last Duties - https://archiveofourown.org/works/17056334/chapters/41924975


	162. Lethallin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Iseshena, exhausted and heartbroken wants to find her gods on the tower. And that is exactly where they find her.

It was warm, like a light spring day. Distant laughter filled the air and I was vaguely aware that I was dreaming. My steps felt too light. The grass too green. The sky was too blue. I’d been here before, I’d seen this before. The sunbathed canopy above me was filled with cheerful bird song and I spotted a little hare poke its head from behind a log, and glance at me disinterestedly before disappearing into the underbrush. 

Tracing my steps, I found the open clearing again. This time it was utterly empty, but for me.  _ No drums, no crowds, no gods _ . Glancing upwards, the sun felt stronger, brighter, it gave this glassy world an almost bluish tint. 

With no crowds to impede my path, I cross towards the little pavillion under which stood the two opposite thrones of the gods. As I neared, I saw what I guessed was the Orb of Transformation, in all of its glory.  _ It was a small little thing,  _ odd yellow light bursting out from the swirling seams, twisting lavender and back as my eyes tried to adjust on the otherworldly colour. I knew enough to keep my distance, this thing had turned Dehnan into a halla, and scared his leg permanently. 

‘Came running back did you,’ a disdainful voice announced. And I looked up to see the ebony throne filled with a woman. It was uncanny how much she looked like Morrigan, sleek dark hair again fresh white skin. Yellow hawk eyes, watching carefully. The goddess, crawled herself forward of the chair, her sharper fingernails like talons, clutching forwards. And she approached me, in a movement that wasn’t natural. One moment she was by the throne, and the next towering above me. ‘Have you decided to whom you owe your loyalty?’ 

_ Mythal was dead, Andruil was before me, Sylaise if I had a choice,  _ but Andruil’s expression told me that I didn’t have a choice. There was something in my throat, even if I wasn’t to speak I wouldn’t have been able to. I took a step back and collided with something. I twisted to find the halla-horned woman in front of me, little smile across her lips. ‘She comes to us with a clean slate, vhenan.’ She said across to Andruil.

‘She came back she lost face.’ The other goddess retorted back, ‘she came because she stinks of wet dog.’ 

I didn’t understand, but I didn’t need to. They were the Evanuris. I stepped away from the two of them, back only a couple steps and dropped to my knees, arms raised about my head. 

Andruil crouched before me, meeting me on eye level, ‘you think your pretty pleasantries will save you now.’ Then her hawk-gaze flicked to my outward palm and she twisted my hand back on itself so the palm was facing my face, ‘wrong way,  _ da’len _ .’ Her lips pursed for a moment as I readjusted my other hand, the green mark illuminating my face. ‘I think it is time to see what this one really is.’ She stood and reached out for Ghilan’nain’s hand, which glowed purple in a mirror match of my own. 

‘Do you know what this does?’ Ghilan’nain asked me softly, stood before me. 

The lump in my throat seemed to clear and it was as though I hadn’t realised that I couldn’t breath, the sweet air flowing into my lungs felt glorious. Then I glanced back at the woman in whispy violets, and floating lavenders, ‘it turns people into animals.’ 

‘Nothing of the sort,’ she gazed at her hand lovingly, ‘it reveals our truest nature.’

Andruil barked a laugh behind Ghilan’nain, ‘if you are prey you will find my arrows sharp,’ and she gave me a wicked grin, white teeth flashing.

Ghilan’nain gave her a soft look, ‘don’t scare her,’ and then she turned back to me. ‘If you are a beast, you will find yourself among their number. But if you know in your bones that you are a goddess made flesh,’ she traced a finger across her collar bone, and the red bracelet on her wrist clattered down against a heavy jewelled collar. 

The sound drew my attention to it, a red bracelet to mark her binding to Andruil, I’d seen it before, but never noticed that it was carved from a red crystalline substance. I knew exactly what it was, which meant that red lyrium was not a new threat. 

‘ _ Mother Ghilan’nain, guide my paces, mother Ghilan’nain, save me from the darkest of places. _ ’ I prayed, under my breath, hoping against all the odds that she would save me.

Ghilan’nain chuckled a little, ‘save you from myself? Little  _ lethallin _ , did you not appreciate my efforts against  _ Era’mis?  _

‘You’re debt is paid,  _ vhenan _ ,’ Andruil grumbled at Ghilan’nain, ‘you owe him and this wretched creature nothing more.’ 

I didn’t dare to glance up at her, Andruil’s wrath and fickle temperament was the undercurrent of more than one myth. It seemed that after everything her eye was turned upon me. And it was nothing like Cassandra’s breastplate, nothing like the image that had haunted me for months.  

Ghilan’nain made soothing sounds, and turned back to me. ‘Maybe you can tell him,’ she laughed lightly, a bittersweet sound, ‘my debt’s paid.’ Then she waved her violet marked hand towards my face and I flinched back unconsciously. She glanced down to her hand, and looked a little sad, a mocking sorrow. ‘You do not wish for my gifts,  _ lethallin _ ?’ She smirked, ‘then perhaps there is something you can do for us.’ She moved her hand through the air, curling and producing a smoky image of the elvhen artefacts we’d been finding all over Thedas. ‘There is one in a little cave, across the hills from where you are, hidden between two hart statues.’ 

I glanced up at her words, my hands dropping without my consent. ‘What,’ I gasped, and felt a thread hook round my throat cutting off the air. I clawed at my neck for a moment, but nothing changed. 

‘You know the location, good. I need you to destroy this.’ Her hands clapping together and ripping the image in two. 

‘Finally, the  _ lethallin _ will do something for us,’ Andruil drawled, and with a snap of pain across my marked hand, I woke up.


	163. Pain and Porridge

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Iseshena wakes from her dream with more questions that she has answers, and she just aches.

I woke up coughing, my throat was in agony. I’d managed to roll face down, and had spent the evening breathing in the gravel and grime. I spat out the tiny stones as well as I could, but the inside of my mouth was covered in grit. I tried to reach over for my pack, and discovered that sleeping on the ground had cramped all my muscles. My neck twinged painful and I turned to sit up, and I pushed through the ache to drag my pack by the strap over to me. 

It took me longer than I should have to find my water, as I had hardly been methodical in my packing. Finally with the waterskin in my hand I noticed a cut on my right hand on the knife that had been hidden under the bundle of clothes I used for my pillow. It stung with each movement.

When the dirt and grime was watched out of my mouth and the little cut on my hand bandaged, I tried to stand, and almost immediately my ankle gave way from under me. It was a little swollen and I’d clearly hit the ground far too hard, sliding from Torchbearer the night before. 

I growled my frustration at the open sky, causing a small flock of birds to take to the heavens in panic. 

Fishing through my pack, I found a half empty bottle of elfroot potion. I pulled the cork out with my teeth and slowly sipped at the earthy, rooty liquid. I stretched my arms over my head and tried to work the knots out of my spine. I scrubbed at my eyes with the back of my hand, and coughed again. The sawdusty taste of the elfroot complimented the taste of dirt as well as fish and cheese. 

_ Someone had asked me to do something _ . I thought with a blind panic, which turned to odd determination as the full events of the dream that wasn’t, came flooding back to me.  _ They want me to break the the veil wards _ . Which meant every time we’d turned on of those devices, I’d been unwittingly pushing my gods further from me. 

I pulled myself up so I was sat back against a merlon. Draining the last of the elfroot, I set the empty potion bottle down and closed my eyes. I could hear the distant roar of the sea, and from somewhere below me the distinct sounds of morning life went on without me. 

My stomach rumbled in a dull protest for real food, and I sighed. Picking through the clothes that I used for my pillow, I realised there was blood of them from where I’d cut my hand.  _ Gods are laughing at me.  _ I thought.  _ Gods are laughing at me misfortune, and giving me quests and … calling me lethallin.  _

I dropped the bundle of clothes and stared at them blankly. Ghilan’nain had called me  _ lethallin _ , but we shared a mark, it made some kind of twisted sense she might consider me kin.  _ But why had Andruil?  _ My mind fluttered to answers like a bee finding pollen, but nothing was satisfactory. For a split second, I considered asking Solas - my heart tore itself apart again anew. I doubled over as a new pain ripped through my stomach, I hit the ground with my fist.  _ No,  _ I wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of me running back for answers. 

Glaring at the pelt that I had stolen the night before, I realised I’d have to go back anyway. 

 

It took my longer than I’d wanted to get all my belongings properly sorted and safely stored in my pack. I stopped to leave the pelt folded by the closed door to the room we once shared. And walked away quickly before he could find me at his door. 

Following the scents of food, I found my way to a little common room where breakfast was being served. Spotting Bull at once, I pushed through the small crowd and dropped down into the bench across from him and his companions. 

‘Iseshena!’ Dorian announced at my presence, ‘you know you two can’t just ride off into the sunset together, we had no idea you were back. We were planning a rescue party.’ 

I raised my eyes in alarm for a moment, then realised he probably wasn’t being serious. Bull sat forward a little, instantly note my lack of  _ vallaslin _ , and I watched as he almost asked but decided against it. Instead he asked, ‘are you alright, boss?’ 

Crossing my arms over on the table and laying my head in the hollow between my arms, I groaned, ‘we broke up.’ 

Someone, I didn’t see who, slide a bowl of stewed oats at me, which nudged the side of my arm. 

I imagined the grin that spread across Dorian’s face, ‘if only you could have ended it here, for my own satisfaction.’ 

Bull coughed, ‘um, Kadan.’ He hissed at the other man. 

‘Not. in. public.’ Dorian growled, low under his breath. 

They exchanged meaningful looks, and as I picked up my spoon to listlessly prod my porridge, Bull was still gesturing silently to Dorian who didn’t seem to be getting whatever the message was.

After a few bits of the bland breakfast, I looked up hopefully, ‘do either of you have any wine?’

Dorian raised his eyebrows and shot a sudden look of comprehension at Bull, ‘ _you did break up with_ _him,_ right?’ He asked slowly.

I pulled a face that was trying to be a smile, but was absolutely a grimace. ‘Nope.’ 

‘ _ Vishante kaffas _ ,’ he whistled, ‘so we’ll be heading back to Skyhold today then?’ 

‘No,’ I said a little too quickly,  _ I needed to work out if I was going to destroy the artefact.  _ ‘No, the weather is nice enough. And I think it would benefit everyone to take some time off.’ 

Bull shuffled a little, his good eye looking at me with concern, ‘you sure boss?’ 

I nodded, and then poked the gruel again,  ‘seriously, some wine would be great right now.’ 

Dorian stood with a flourish, ‘well if we're on holiday,’ he began to move away then turned back, ‘anything else you need, Inquisitor?’ 

He was smirking to try to cheer me up, ‘actually paper, if you can find some. I need to write a letter.’  _ Merrill, I’d ask Merrill. Take that Solas, I don’t need you.  _ I thought spitefully. 

When Dorian disappeared, Bull gestured with his finger to his face, ‘what happened?’ 

I scratched the back of my head and looked away. ‘Can I tell you later?’ I countered, not sure I could stomach the telling.

Bull gave me half a smile, then tapped the corner of my bowl with a finger. ‘No wine until you finish that.’ He said sternly. 

I glared for a long moment until I realised he wasn’t going to relent and I ate the damned porridge. 


	164. A Deal with the Dread Wolf

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Iseshena has been taught her entire life to never make a deal with the master of tricksters. He was as likely to double-cross you as answer your prayers. But Iseshena is desperate.

It took another four days to decide to ride back to the cave where Solas had left me. I’d moved a travel cot into the tower that I’d claimed and I thanked the gods that I hadn’t had another dream. With the borrowed knife in my boot, and a borrowed bow on my shoulder, I set off from my room. Barely stopping as I passed Dorian to mention I was going for a ride. He offered to accompany me, but I waved it off. I needed to do this alone. 

I froze as I approached the stables, _he was there,_ brushing down a silvery mare. My instinct was to turn away and flee back to my room, to run for my bolt hole, _be brave little hare._

Clearing my throat, to announce my presence, Solas looked up and then double took, ‘Inquisitor,’ he acknowledged with the slightest incline of his head. 

‘Apostate,’ I replied in the same tone. And walked past him to Torchbearer’s stall. Head held as I high as I could, and ignoring the stabbing pain in the base of my stomach. 

My fingers would not work, trembling as I tried to fasten the straps of the saddle. And the little buckles of the reins were impossible. Sighing, I decided it wasn’t far and I could get away without using it. Of course, I’d learned to ride without any of the _fancy shem nonsense_ , but it had been years since I had not used the luxuries. 

‘Let me,’ he said softly, making me jump. Solas was leaning lightly against the wooden structure of the stall. And I didn’t want to know how long he’d been watching me. 

‘I don’t need your assistance,’ I replied coolly, but had to duckback to avoid touching him as he went to saddle Torchbearer anyway. I looked pointedly away as he worked.

When he was finished, he stepped away, his hands clasped behind his back. ‘I did not wish to hurt you, and please know that what we had was real.’ 

I met his eyes for a moment and looked away, it was like he’d twisted the dagger in my gut. I was about to tell him _if he didn’t wish to hurt me, why didn’t he leave?_ But I spotted Torchbearer was nibbling the bottom of his tattered green jacket. 

With a hand over my mouth to contain my laugh, I gently pulled at Torchbearer’s reins to stop him eating Solas’ coat, and I ran two fingers down from the hart’s forehead to muzzle, ‘you’re a right stupid thing, you know that?’ I cooed warmly at the creature. And I dropped a kiss to his forehead, ignoring Solas completely. 

‘Inquisitor,’ a new voice called. It was a red-faced agent. ‘Your urgent letter.’ He gasped handing it across the stable wall me to. 

I fumbled at my waist to give him coin for getting a message back so quickly, but as I popped the seal of the note, and recognised Merrill’s handwriting I no longer cared and handed him the whole of my coin purse. I scanned the note and hissed, then I scanned it again. 

_Iseshena,_

_How is the Storm Coast treating you?_

_Lethallin? Well we use it like ‘kin’, but literally it means, ‘the one that serves.’ With the indicated meaning of we serve together, we serve the same goal together. Like kin._ _The first recorded use of it used in this context seems to come from Ancient Tevinter, pre-Dales. There was a rebellion against the ‘Vints, and the rebels called themselves the ‘lethallinen.’ But before that, it just meant literally, ‘one that serves,’ or ‘servant.’_

_Hope this helped, and do show me this text you found when you get back. I’d love to have a look at it._

_Also Rina sends her love! And Sil asked me to tell you that ‘Vael’s knocked up’, which sounds violent, and he wouldn’t tell me what it meant._

_Merrill_

The dot of the ‘i’ in her name was replaced by a small flower, and I traced my finger over it, before seeing below that in a different hand was scrawled a protection. 

_May the Dread Wolf never catch your scent._

Screwing the note up in my fist, I shoved it firmly against Solas chest, and his hands flew up to grab the note from me. Hadn't he called me  _lethallin_ on the way to Skyhold. Used it to gain my trust, and then tell me he was nothing like my people. I'd been so hurt, but I'd just been foolish. It all clicked into place, and I understood exactly what the elvhen had meant. ‘It was real was?’ I spat at him. 

Fuelled by pure spite and fury, I pulled myself into Torchbearer’s back, ignoring him as he uncrumpled the note and I saw his eyes flicking back and forth over Merrill’s words. I couldn’t bare to hear him, _he’d be so rational, and explain perfectly. And I’d believe him, and I’d forgive him_. So I dug my heels into Torchbearer, and he went flying from the stables. I was followed only by his desperate echoed cry of ‘Iseshena!’  

Riding hard from Caer Bronach, I was certain they would send agents after me. An Inquisitor on the loose would need to be tracked down. For my protection, they’d say. I only had one thing that kept me going, the knowledge in my bones that, _harts were faster and they wouldn’t catch me._ I’d head back to Skyhold, confess my sins to my mother and she’d know what to do.  _Maybe if I never went back to Crestwood, Andruil would never realise that I had failed her._

I rode until Torchbearer began to slow, his back was slick with sweat and the poor thing was panting hard. I guided him to a large tree just off the main road and gently lowered myself down, ensuring I didn’t do any further damage to my ankle. I twisted Torchbearer’s reins around a low hanging branch and I knelt in front of the ancient trunk.

With the dagger freed from my boot, clasped tightly in my hand. I angrily carved the sigil of the god of betrayal into the wood. Short little strokes until it was complete and I was happy with my handiwork. Then I drew the dagger across the palm of my right hand and let the blood drip down the sigil, illuminating it in red. 

A stylised wolf looked back at me, unblinking. 

I raised my green hand, and raised it with my other palm which was dripping blood down my arm. ‘Fen’Harel, I have been betrayed. Fen’Harel, I invoke you, I call you. Fen’Harel, hear me, avenge me.’ I spoke the ancient words of the curse, and I thought of Solas’ features, of the way he spoke, of the way he’d felt in my bed - targeting him with my curse. 

Then I sat back on my heels, appealing directly to the Wolf-faced Lord, ‘You gave me this, Lord,’ my left hand was trembling, shaking with fury, ‘and I have been betrayed. You did this, and now you owe me.’ I added.  _Never make a deal with the Dread Wolf,_ Dirthanna had taught me,  _even if you are desperate, he will take more than you expect, more than you can give._ And now I was desperate, and I figured I had nothing more to lose. 


	165. Step by Step

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Iseshena has returned to Skyhold, but she does not return alone.

It took just over a day and half to make it back to Skyhold. I slept in the saddle, my arms looped around Torchbearer’s neck, trusting him to not wonder off. 

I could see Skyhold up in the distance, the tops of the towers covered in cloud. But I didn’t approach the castle, I stopped by the little crossroads that would take me up to the clearing where Clan Lavellan camped. Even from this distance, I could smelt the smoky scents of home, roasting meats and sacrificial herbs. My eyes followed the little path up the mountain, but my feet stayed planted at the junction.  _ Would I even be welcome? Or had I finally gone too far? _

Scrubbing at my eyes with the back of my hands, this would have been the time to pray. But with my  _ vallaslin  _ gone, I wasn’t sure if any of the gods could hear me. I glanced up at the open sky filled with indecision.  _ Would it be better to get to Skyhold and write a note back, surely Bull and Dorian would want to know where I had gone? _ There was a slow, but steady stream of people arriving and leaving Skyhold, so no doubt one of them could report the Inquisitor was back. By the Inquisitor looked like a Dalish elf, and I did not look Dalish. 

I sighed, and just as I decided to move forward. A pale horse pulled up beside me, I glanced up at the rider and my heart sank. ‘How did you get here so fast.’ I demanded. 

‘Harts are only faster if you don’t stop to torture trees,’ Solas‘ words stung exactly as he intended them too. 

_ So he knew what I’d done, well I’d hardly been subtle.  _ I looked up at him steadily as though challenging him to protest, maybe he’d beg me to undo it. 

From the way he held himself he was furious, and trying not to show it. He dropped down from the horse and shoved me back the crumpled note, it was warm to the touch as though it had been crumpled in his hand as he’d chased after. His sharp finger almost piercing the page as he jabbed at it. ‘This is incorrect.’ 

‘You would say that,’ I countered, folding the note in hand and crossing my arms over my chest. ‘I trust Merrill to not lie to me.’ 

Solas scoffed, ‘she is enthralled to Mythal, however much you trusted her before. It was foolishness riding off alone, Inquisitor,’ he over emphasised my title, ‘there could have been bandits on the road or,’ he dropped off suddenly with a deep sigh and scraped a hand over his scalp. And glanced down at my bandaged palm, ‘give me your hand.’ 

‘Why?’ 

He gave me a dark look, and took it anyway. ‘ _ You were heard _ .’ He muttered coldy and I felt the sharp twinge of magic as the threads knitted my flesh back together. 

I pulled my hand from his grip, ‘good.’ I spat at him before stalking off up the little gravel path, pulling Torchbearer behind me. It took all my willpower to not look behind me. I nodded at the twin wolf statues that decorated the entrance to camp, and tucked the letter that Merrill had sent under the feet of one of them. I raised my hands for the barest of moments and pulled my hood down. 

 

Typically Sil noticed my arrival first, and pushed himself to his feet to come over to greet me, ‘well, look what the wolf dragged in!’ He announced and pulled me by the shoulders into a tight hug. I didn’t even try to resist. It felt like it had been too long since I’d seen him. ‘You’re not meant to be back yet,’ he added. 

‘Where’s Deshanna?’ I whispered against his ear, ‘it’s urgent, under the boards.’ I added. 

Then I heard the whisper from somewhere behind me, and I looked over to see Vaelentine stood staring wide eyed at me. Her mouth slightly agape and the mug in her hands looking like it was going to hit the ground. ‘What happened to them?’ She murmured stepping over to me. She was shaking her head then, ‘impossible.’ 

I pulled back from Sil, and pushed my hood back, revealing fully the emptiness of my face. ‘Oh, Sil passed the message on. Congratulations.’ 

Vaelentine waved her hand impatiently, but then dropped it lovingly to the slightly little bump in her belly, ‘don’t try to distract me.’

Sil looked confused, his whole face was screwed up, and then as though a match was struck. He realised. ‘Gods be good,’ he cursed under his breath. 

‘Mnhhh,’ I murmured, laying my hands out flat into the air and shaking it from side to side, as though to say,  _ the gods? good, who knows anymore? _

Sil smacked the back of his hand against my forehead, a crude way of testing my temperature. ‘Who are you, and what have you done with Els?’ 

I shrugged back from his hand. ‘Deshanna, boards, now.’ 

My cousin shrugged and led me in the direction of the Keeper’s  _ araval,  _ she was sat outside with Merrill, both sat on carved slabs of logs. As I approached, my mother’s eyes traced over my face and I watched as her and Merrill gave each other a knowing look, almost as though it wasn’t in the least bit surprisingly I’d turned up with my  _ vallaslin  _ gone. 

They both stood, and Deshanna sighed indicating at the  _ araval,  _ as though she could read my mind. Or maybe just the desperation on my face. ‘Sil, help me clear out the under-boards.’ 

Merrill glanced behind me, and then reached behind her for her staff, ‘where is he?’ She asked pointedly. 

I spread my hands, ‘not here, he, um,’ I looked down at my hands. Twisting them together a little nervously, ‘broke up with me.’ 

Deshanna exchanging a truly worried look with Merrill. And then she stepped towards me, wrapped her arm around me shoulder. ‘Help Sil, I’ll put some tea on.’ 

‘Thanks, Mamae.’ I whispered, leaning my head against her arm. 

It took most of an hour to clear the underboards of the supplies that had accumulated rather quickly. Which included two breaks to drinks a rather odd infusion of dried apple peel, shavings of carrot and a pinch of powdered amirta vein. A restorative, she called it. 

When it was finally cleared, Deshanna crawled into the space, and I followed. Then found Sil’s feet in my face. 

‘Nice try,’ he announced, ‘I want to hear his.’ 

Grumbling, I shuffled over to give him space. And then I told them everything. 


	166. A Question of Honour

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Solas is starting to learn that when you break up with a Dalish girl, you break up with her whole clan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ugg this chapter is slightly shorter than I'd like it to be, but I didn't want to spill any of the next chapter over. So - forgive me?

‘A dreamer?’ Sil groaned, slipping his arm through mine as we walked up to the gates of Skyhold. 

I shook my head, ‘I thought Den would have told you.’ I replied as honestly as I could. 

My cousin laughed, ‘Wait, Den knew? How did Dehnen know? That idiot’s been a halla for years. I can’t believe he didn’t tell me!’ Sil threw his hands up into the air in mock outrage, then laughed, ‘well he has been a bit distracted,’ he added waggling his fingers at me in a vaguely provocative gesture at me. ‘Ohh! You know Deshanna wants to make Vael her first?’ 

The news hit me softly, and I nodded. Deshanna had come back from the Arlathvhen without the second she’s gone for, and without a mage to take Moherinal’s place as First, she needed someone. And it was unlikely that any mages were queueing up to join us. It made a perfect kind of sense. Vaeletine was wickedly smart, and now she was pregnant, unable to go running off with the Hunters anymore. She was also independent enough to stand up to the other Keepers. It was a break with tradition, but then, wasn’t everything Clan Lavellan was doing these days a break with tradition? 

As we walked through the gates of Skyhold and into the courtyard, it was as though my eyes were trained to find him. Solas was stood speaking quietly to Cole, stood by the stairs that would take us the quickest root to the Herald's rest. Cole’s hands were wrung and he looked distressed. Cole stopped to turn, picking me straight out of the crowd. 

Shuddering to a stop, as I met Solas’ eyes, I pulled my arm from Sil’s to wrap it around myself and pointedly looked away. ‘Let’s go the long way around,’ I muttered and started towards the far stairs. My heart was beating dangerously fast against my throat, my heart hurt. ‘Deshanna was too quiet, don’t you think?’ I offered trying to change the subject, and hating the nervous undercurrent to my words. ‘I thought she’d have more questions.’ A heartbeat past, and I realised Sil wasn’t with me. 

 _Fenedhis._ I turned, and he had marched directly directly toward Solas. Cole looked up first, as I saw Sil gestured a pointed hand at Solas. ‘Gods,’ I swore under my breath and went running after him. 

Sil was hissing something in elvish at Solas, who had the decency to look ashamed. But then Sil muttered something new and the atmosphere changed. Crackling with tension thick as lightning. 

Solas’ posture changed in an instance, a subtle thing, to move his weight to his back leg. But I’d fought by his side for almost a year and I recognised the sure sign of trouble. The flash of green in the air, gave away he’d cast a barrier. _Fuck._

And Sil was no better, who was moving to strike the taller man, but as he stepped forward, I grabbed him by the waist and flung him backwards. 

‘Oi,’ I called as I acting purely on instinct stepping between my cousin and his quarry. Which had the effect of throwing Sil off balance and he floundered, his arms windmilling in the air for a heartbeat before he found his footing. But not for long, once Sil regained his balance I shoved him hard, making him stumble back, ‘what _are_ you doing?’ 

Gesticulating wildly, Sil rounded on me, panting heavily and wiping his mouth with the back of his fist, ‘you still want to protect him after what _he_ did?’ 

I narrowed my eyes at my cousin, _obviously I didn’t think this through, but apparently yes, my instinct was still to protect him._ My unspoken words sat between us, like a cruel confession. _Hellana might have gladly have watched this play out, but Iseshena knew better._ Shooting daggers at my cousin, ‘stand down Sil’. I said deathly calm, dropping my voice so he know I was serious. 

I could _feel_ Solas’ eyes on my back, itching. I wished he stop looking at me. I could almost hear his derision. 

Whereas Sil wouldn’t look at me, was glaring behind me. His teeth slightly bared. He opened his mouth to protest, but caught a glance of my expression and suddenly seemed to think better of it. 

‘She won’t forgive you,’ Cole interjected in his soft whine, ‘if you hurt him.’ 

Swallowing hard Sil gave me a cold look, as though he couldn’t believe I wasn’t on his side. And I frowned as well, _I wasn’t sure I wasn’t_. I turned to Cole who was looking at Solas. And I realised exactly who those words were aimed at. 

There was a little green flame, barely bigger than a wisp dancing in Solas’ palm. ‘Stand down.’ I hissed at him.

‘Iseshena?’ He asked blinking at me, as though suddenly realising exactly where he was, and exactly what he was doing. He extinguished the veilfire with a snap. 

‘Both of you, bloody children.’ I pinched my nose, and let out a frustrated exhale. I glared at Solas, ‘you do not get to act like the offended party here.’ 

Then I rounded back to Sil, elbowing him, ‘and you! What? Are you trying to defend my honour?’ 

My cousin gave me a grumpy distrustful look, ‘maybe.’ 

I stared at him for a couple of heartbeats, which gave way to a bitter laugh. ‘You owe me a drink for this stunt.’ I grabbed my cousin's hand and physically dragged him past Solas and Cole, and up the stairs, ensuring that he wouldn’t get lost this time. 

When we got to the top of the stairs, I asked, ‘what did you say to him?’ 

Sil twisted a braid between his fingers and looked away, ‘I just told him he wasn’t helping.’ He shrugged, ‘you know, wasn’t helping our people.’ 

I grabbed his hand and made him face me, ‘which makes you a shitty hunter, Sil,’ I rubbed at my eyes, ‘I can’t pick sides on this, you understand that right.’ 

He gave me a half-hearted smile, ‘you’d have been a good Keeper.’ He offered. 

‘Shut up,’ I replied back with a genuine smile this time, and we crossed over the Herald’s Rest, I paused with my hand on the door and glanced back, ‘but between you and me, thanks for having my back.’ 


	167. The Medicinal Properties of Elfroot

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Catching up with Sera, Iseshena and Sil spend a night decompressing.

With a cheeky glance at Sil, I pushed into the tavern. And was surprised to see it practically deserted. Even Cabot was dosing on a chair pulled up behind the bar. I stopped and Sil walked directly into the back of me.

He shrugged it off, and moved past me into the room, ‘that’s creepy.’ He said turning around so quickly one of his braids smacked me in the face. 

‘Pfff,’ I said, and I nodded towards the stairs, ‘I’ll get Sera.’

We divided, as Sil went to find something to drink, I took the stairs two at a time. And crossed over the little wooden balcony. I smiled to myself as I heard Cabot wake in alarm and then grunt dismissively at Sil. I knocked on Sera’s door and called for her. 

After a long pause, followed by a clatter of metal on wood, I heard her reply tentatively, ‘no?’ 

I blinked at the closed door, and knocked again, ‘Sera, it’s me.’ When there was no response, I cracked the door open and peered through, ‘it’s Iseshena.’ 

Another loud bang followed, and she looked up from disassembling her bookcase, which was more of a shiny things and nick-nack case. She blinked at me twice before pouncing, and wrapped her arms around my neck. Then she leaned back and pulled a crinckled face at me, ‘you had face doodles right, where’d they go?’ 

_ There was no point in lying to her,  _ ‘Solas told me the truth of them and removed them.’ I breathed out through my teeth. That hurt more than I’d been expecting it too. Barefaced, and vaguely ashamed, I waited for her judgement. 

Curiously she dragged a finger across my cheek and held it up for inspection, as though she would have found face paint covering them. Then she leered at me, ‘is it a sex thing?’ 

The tension broke in an instant, so I bite at her finger, and she snapped her hand away laughing. ‘It is not a sex thing,’ I retorted, my hand on my hip.

‘What’s not a sex thing?’ My cousin shouted, taking that exact moment to appear at the top of the stairs with two bottles of wine clutched tightly in his arms and three mugs balanced precariously on the top. 

I sighed, ‘for the love of,’ but then snorted and slumped down in a chair by the wall. I glanced at the mug it was a start. My heart was beating out an unhappy tune under my chest and I needed to get rid of it, unconsciously I reacted down for the hip flask filled with elfroot that I’d taken to carrying just after having my  _ vallaslin  _ redone. The hip flask was of course gone, but it gave me and idea. ‘Sil, you’ve got some ‘root on you, right?’ 

He dropped the mugs down on the table, laid the bottles down with a little more care and then patted his pockets. ‘Yer, why?’ Then his eyebrows knitted together with a hint of concern, ‘you don’t even smoke.’ 

I gave me by best smile,  _ it’s been a rough couple of days,  _ ‘tonight I do.’ 

Drinks in hand, and feeling lighter by the second, we made our way through Sera’s room to the slanted roof top. The night was cool, as the first tendrils of Autumn reached out across the moon-kissed sky. Within a few minutes, Sil handed me a elfroot loaded cigarette and a pack of matches. 

Dragging the match across one of the tiles, it flared into life. A little flame dancing in the still air. As I touched it to the end of the cigarette, I glanced up towards the unclouded sky, ‘Sylaise enaste.’ Then I inhaled deeply, keeping the earth smoke in lungs for a couple of heartbeats. The moment it hit my chest, I felt some of the coils of tension start to loosen. 

‘It’s not a damn offering, you’re meant to smoke it.’ Sil teased, with a smirk.

I gave him a look, ‘I can do both, see I’m very talented.’ Taking another long drag, before passing it back to him. 

Sera snorted, because of course Sera would chortle at anything that even bordered slightly on the crude. And then I laughed, because it was infectious. The giggles pushing down that gaping hole in my chest. 

I leaned back against the brickwork, feeling the roughness of the stone against my back. Then I took the smoke from Sil and offered it to Sera, she took it and as the lit end faded she said, ‘Inky without any Ink, what’s that like?’

Shifting against the stone, I took a deep sip of wine. Consider how exactly to put into words the loss that I felt, the dull ache that hadn’t gone away from the pit of my stomach, but that really had nothing to do with my bareface. 

But I didn’t have to answer as Sil leant across me, ‘apparently we got it all wrong, bla, bla, vanishing  _ vallaslin _ , then he breaks up with her.’ 

Sera stared at me, with wide-eyes, ‘arsebiscuit,’ she said extremely slowly, over enunciating every syllable. She handed back the elfroot cigarette, and her face lit up with what I could only assume was a revenge plot. 

‘No lizards, or rodents, or molluscs,’ I paused waving my hands to cover anything else I couldn’t think of, ‘Sera I mean it. Don’t,’ then I flicked my right hand to Sil, ‘anyway, I already got vengeance.’ 

He practically cackled, and snatched my hand from the air, ‘you didn’t!’ 

‘Speak real words, yeah?’ Sera snapped, snatching the bottle up and pouring herself more wine. ‘What’d you do?’ 

Smiling a little too much, ‘let’s call it an old Dalish curse.’  _ You were heard,  _ Solas voice bubbled up from the back of my memory and I shivered at the thought.

Sera made a rude noise, and followed it by raising her glass, ‘to your freedom!’ 

‘What?’ I gasped, throwing ash all down myself. Angrily rubbing at the stain I looked over to Sera.  _ Who had told her about the vallaslin? _

For her part, she looked like I’d grown another head, ‘you’re free from all that,’ she mimicked a self-masterbatory gesture with ended in a jazz hand, ‘ _ elven glory.’ _ And then with her other hand she waggled her mug expectantly.

_ It didn’t feel so simple as all of that, I didn’t feel free of him. I felt his dark eyes on me.  _

‘To your terrible taste in men,’ Sil added, holding his own mug next to Sera’s and giving me a mocking wink. 

I stuck my tongue out at him, and then reluctantly raised my cup. ‘To what comes next.’


	168. Prayers Answered, Secrets Spilled

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Iseshena realises that her prayers were answered, and Deshanna reveals a secret to Solas.

_ You were heard.  _ Solas’ words echoed through my head, bouncing off the sides of my mind and filling my consciousness, till I could barely think of anything else. The idea had me both assured and terrified. I rubbed at my eyes and tried to focus on the next document that Josephine has asked me to sign, I tossed it down and stood up from my desk. Stretching my back out. Dorian had arrived back last night, along with Bull and his Chargers, and had asked if I could meet him today. I glanced back at the growing paperwork on my desk and decided now was as good a time as any. 

_ You were heard.  _ His voice echoed again, as I almost walked straight through the rotunda, instead, I turned to go the long way. Throwing Varric a rather rude hand gesture as he witnessed and laughed at my indecision. 

_ You were heard.  _ I thought again, and wished I could rip that memory from my head. As I got to the bottom of the stairs a new memory flared up, Sil had jumped to my defense. Not that I hadn’t expected him to, but the sudden almost inexplicable vitriol with which he same to my defence made me freeze on the bottom step. I let out a little laugh, of course. _ I had been heard,  _ and through Sil my divine vengeance was being carried out, _ and I’d stopped him.  _ I glanced around wierily as though I’d be able to spot a pair of wolf eyes watching from the shadows. Then glanced down at my marked hand with a smile.  _ Very clever,  _ I thought vaguely in the direction of Fen’Harel, wherever he was,  _ I see what you did.  _

 

I found Dorian in his usual place in the library, flicking disinterestedly through a book. When he saw me he snapped it closed and mimicked drinking from a bottle. When I nodded he closed the book with a snap and tossed the book over the balcony. 

I watched it go and instinctively stepped back into the shadows. I heard Solas’ cursed from the floor below and pursed my lips. 

Dorian glanced down and then gave me a sly look.  _ I was heard.  _ I thought with a odd sense of calm. But a moment later, the calm was shattered as I heard the telltale clatter of beads.

_ What was Deshanna doing here,  _ peering over the railing in a way that kept me as out of sight as possible, I watched Deshanna walk into the rotuna, prop her staff against the wall. Give the murals a passing glance and then turned her attention to the man sat behind the desk. ‘May I speak to you.’

I pushed my finger against my lip and indicated to Dorian, who nodded. I crouched back against the railing, curious despite myself. 

‘Keeper’. Solas acknowledged with a weary smile.  

She twisted her ring off her finger and tossed it lightly onto his desk. It hit with a small clatter. ‘Do you know what that is?’ 

‘A ring.’ Solas snapped back, I could hear the distrust in his tone from the floor above. ‘There is a spirit encased here?’

Dorian sat down next to me and quirked an eyebrow, ‘ _ why are we on the floor?’  _ He mouthed.

I pointed down, and then at my ear, and then gave him a shrug. ‘ _ I’m eavesdropping, what does it look like?’ _

Dorian shook his head at me with a smile and, lent his head back so he could hear better. 

‘It is more than a ring, clan Lavellan has one thing that is passed down. We have no artifacts, or books or rituals. We have one thing, and that is an enchantment. My sister traded it with her lover for a useless Lexicon.’ There was a heat in Deshanna’s voice, passionate. I twisted round to see if I could catch a glance at her face. ‘A ritual of sorts, one that asks an ancient spirit to inhabit the ring.’

‘What is the point of this?’ Solas interrupted.

‘You will see,’ Deshanna replied simply, ‘test it if you like, do you know what this enchantment does?’ 

Through a sliver between the wooden slats of the railing, I saw Solas’ hand pick up her ring, and place it back down a moment later. 

‘Ahh.’ He began. 

I heard Deshanna’s disappointed sigh, ‘it whispers to us, secret things that only be found by spending thousands of years in the fade. And through us it can see the world, but we ask it anything in return. To identify the Dread Wolf when he is before us, you see? Only two Keepers in Thedas know this enchantment.’ 

‘Hawen.’ 

‘And myself.’ She agreed, her voice was tired. ‘So can you imagine what I thought two days ago, when you bring my daughter back barefaced? I knew she had been misled and I knew exactly  _ who _ to blame.’ 

I glanced at Dorian, ‘ _ this is bad. _ ’ I hissed. 

Dorian gave me a nodding smile and rubbed thumb and forefinger against his chin. ‘ _ Let’s see how he wriggles out of this one _ .’ He said with rather more glee that was strictly necessary. 

I knew by rights I should go down and break them up, before either decided to turn their staff on the other… but then again.  _ I had been heard, might as well let it play out.  _ And of course, the more spiteful part of me piped up, if he wanted me to defend him, maybe he shouldn’t have tried to leave me in a cave.

‘I had not protected her.’ Deshanna continued, and a bitter laugh followed. ‘I asked myself - how can I protect my clan if I could not even protect my own daughter?’ 

My fingertips reached up to find  _ vallaslin  _ that were not there, instead I twisted my fingers together in the hollow of my neck. 

‘You have no answer for me, perhaps this one will be a little easier.’ Deshanna said, ‘Do you know what happened next?’ 

‘No.’ 

‘Let me tell you,  Iseshena came to me, took me to the bowels of our  _ araval _ . And told me everything.’ Deshanna was rooted to the stop, straight as an oak, tall despite her height. ‘We are the Dalish, the  _ last _ of the Elvhen, and we shall  _ never _ submit.’ 

I heard the scrap of Solas’ wooden chair, and although I couldn’t see I knew that he had stood up. Whether enraged or shamed or just to try to intimidate her, I shouldn’t say. 

I did see Deshanna hold up a little hand,  _ patience,  _ ‘I have never been more proud of her.’ 

‘Why are you here Keeper?’ Solas’ voice was hard as marble. 

‘To warn you.’ Deshanna snapped, ‘in four months one of the children, Una, will come of age. I will not be giving her  _ vallaslin.  _ If I have my way, none of clan Lavellan will ever bear the marks again.’ 

I gasped at her words,  _ this was something she hadn’t even told me _ . I looked incredulously at Dorian, who hadn’t understood the weight of Deshanna’s statement. 

‘When I am asked why, why I have forsaken our traditions. I will tell them the whole truth _.’  _

‘So you would keep the secret, till then?’ Solas asked, and I hear his voice was unsure. 

‘I am named for Dirthamen.’ Deshanna snapped back. ‘I’ve been keeping the secret since the moment we met.’

Solas tapped against the desk, ‘Dirthamen,’ his voice was surer, certain and back in control, ‘he would not be worthy of you.’ 

‘ _ You would _ say that.’ Deshanna replied curtly, although now without any malice. 

Solas chuckled then, ‘I would.’

Dorian rolled his eyes, and tilted his head as though he was utterly bored now the mages weren’t going to create a firework show.

I nodded and got unsteadily my feet, making sure I was out of sight. 

‘Is there anything you want in exchange?’ Solas asked.

Deshanna picked her ring back up delicately, and slid it back onto her finger raising it slightly towards him. ‘I am a Keeper, by our nature. We do not make deals with wolves.’

I glanced down into the rotunda, and felt my heart drop. Sil was wrong, _I would have made a terrible Keeper, as I had made a deal with the Wolf_. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> DoreNaEgoSum - ... pation!


	169. Considerations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Iseshena thinks that she's worked it out, but then again so has Morrigan.

_ I don’t make deals with wolves. _

I pushed out from the shadows, exchanging a grim look of determination with Dorian. Who for his part adapted to my shift in emotions with surprising ease. I was done being lied to, ‘so what did you need to talk about?’ I asked, a little quietly. But loud enough that I saw from the corner of my eye two heads from below swivel to my direction. 

‘Tevinter, surprisingly,’ he replied steadily, not even glancing down. And followed my lead as we made our way to the stairs, once hidden and our voices muffled he glanced at me, the concern hardly hidden. ‘Are you feeling alright?’ He hissed. 

I shrugged, and grimaced, ‘I don’t know,’ I replied honestly and rubbed at my eyes with my fingers. 

Dorian sighed, and shook his head slightly, then resumed speaking in his normal tone, ‘well, it seems I’ve gotten a letter from a family friend.’ 

I laughed bitterly, ‘not your father, I hope?’ Magister Pavus had to finally be escorted from Skyhold after picking a fight with Sera, which had ended with sixteen guest rooms being put out of service because they were infested with biting beetles.  

_ May I take a little time, there are… considerations. _

Dorian gave me a smirking look, ‘no, Magister Tilani, is a cut above the rest. She’s organising a little Venatori resistance movement.’ 

‘Ohh!’ I sat delightedly, ‘we’ll find Jospehine, any help the Inquisition can give her,’ I trailed off as we entered the rotunda. Deshanna was almost at the door, moving her staff to be as quiet as possible and Solas glanced at me with an unreadable look. ‘Mamae,’ I called and she froze.

It was odd to see my mother caught out, a role reversal that I’d rarely seen. And I vividly recalled a time in my youth when she’d caught me sneaking extra candies. She laid her staff back down against the wall and turned, still twisting her ring back onto her finger. ‘Da’len, I was just looking for you.’ 

‘In here?’ I asked, and raised an eyebrow. 

_ It isn’t my secret to reveal, little hare, doing so might put you in more danger. _

‘Inquisitor,’ Solas began. 

‘Apostate,’ I snapped, cutting him off without even throwing him a glance. Dorian snorted from behind me, and I ignored that as well.

My mother opened her mouth, but was saved from a fumbling answer as the door rocketed open and Morrigan emerged clutching a half open book in the air as though it was a trophy. She paused, as suddenly all the eyes in the room were on her. But then she found me, and smoothed a hand down her skirts, ‘I have found her.’ She announced. 

Pinching the bridge of my nose, I sighed at the Witch, both for her perfectly timed interruption and for her vague statement. Gods, she really was a spit of Andruil, same sharp features, same yellow hawk-like eyes, same willowy frame. 

_ She stinks of wet dog. _

‘Who are you referring to?’ Dorian asked from behind me, in a tight clipped tone. 

Morrigan gave him as disdainful look, as though personally offended that we couldn’t read her mind. She crossed over to Solas’ desk, shoving papers aside. And laid the book out flat, as I approached I could make out a drawing of the winged statue of Mythal, the same style of statue we had seen decorating her Temple in the Arbor Wilds.

Spluttering I said without thinking, ‘you want to find Mythal?’ Morrigan gave me a smile, as though I had worked out her plan in its entirety. The knowledge that I had gained from the Temple hit me again, ‘she’s dead, remember?’ I asked hollowly. 

‘Maybe not,’ Morrigan countered, ‘there is a ritual recorded. If any trace of her remains, she will come.’ 

If, the word hung in the air of the rotunda. 

Dorian shifted a little uncomfortably,  _ poor Andrastian.  _ I turned to face my mother, but she was looking at her ring, and torn expression on her face. She looked up at me slowly, and I knew I had to go, to try. To reclaim some part of us that was lost, then I felt the strike of fear. And I traced the lost line of  _ vallaslin  _ that had traced down my lip. Could I face her, barefaced?

_ She was mislead, and I knew exactly who to blame.  _

‘Fine,’ I said stepping back and pulling an arm across my chest, I was starting to get a headache. ‘Where is this shrine?’ I asked Morrigan. 

She gave me a subtle smile and snapped the book closed with a triumphant sound, ‘Arbor Wilds.’ 

I had to laugh, and I ran a tense hand through my hair,  _ we were just there _ . ‘Of course, so that’s going to be three weeks there-’

‘Perhaps the eluvians?’ Morrigan offered. 

Nodding, I turned to Dorian plastering my fakest smile across my face, ‘pack your bags, we’re off on an adventure.’ 

‘When are we leaving, Inquisitor?’ Solas asked. 

Deshanna looked directly up, the slightly shake of her head told me she was worried, but I was way ahead of her. 

_ Elvhen such as you.  _

‘We?’ I countered, mock surprise colouring my tone as I looked at the mural of the Inquisitorial sword just to the left of his head. Refusing to even do him the honour of looking at him. 

Solas sighed in dismay, ‘you will need me to-’

I turned from him to Morrigan, ‘is there anything in the ritual that requires the fade?’ I asked pointedly. 

Morrigan hesitated for the moment, realising that she’d been put in an awkward position. She glanced down at the book in her hands. ‘I do not believe so.’ She said uncertainly after a moment. 

Rounding back on Solas, I shrugged dramatically and smiled a smile that did not reach my eyes, ‘then it appears I do not need you. We’ll get Merrill and Marina, and head out in two hours,’ I turned from the group and took three paces, then stopped turning back to Dorian, ‘oh, bring Bull if you like.’ Then I walked directly from the rotunda. 

As I left, I heard his footsteps following me, so I diverted across the hall to the relative privacy of my quarters, I stopped only when I was at the wooden walkway that crossed over the ruined original staircase. Then I turned and waited, heart hammering my chest as I pulled together all the stands to weave one image. 

‘What?’ I snapped as Solas approached. 

He came to a stop well out of arm's reach, a carefully measured distance. ‘The ritual will be more complicated than Morrigan anticipates.’ He said softly. 

‘Then you have two hours to write up some notes for me,’ I replied tightly. 

‘Iseshena,’ he muttered shaking his head. 

I held up a hand, ‘no, you’re not going. End of discussion.’

He racked a hand back across his scalp, clearly annoyed but trying not to let it show. ‘Because you’re letting your emotions get in the way of practicality?’ 

Inhaling sharply, ‘ _ because _ ,’ I said emphasising the word, ‘you didn’t tell me the truth. You let me work it out for myself, and I can’t trust you.’ 

‘And what have you worked out?’ Condensing smile draped over sheer terror in his dark eyes. 

‘Tell me if I’ve missed anything,’ I spat at him, ‘there was a war. Many wars, elves against elves. Eight against One. You picked your side.’ He bowed his head, a line drawn tight in his neck. ‘So tell me, if you won’t tell me where your loyalties lie, why I should let you anywhere near Mythal?’ 

He closed his eyes, acceptance or at least no wish to argue, he took a step back. ‘When Corypheus is defeated, I will tell you everything.’ 

‘I will hold you to that.’ 


	170. Mother?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Iseshena and the gang go to summon Mythal - but an elven goddess does not appear.

We picked our careful way through the Crossroads, searching for an  _ eluvian _ that would open up in the Arbor Wilds. Using rope to tie the party together, to prevent the non-elves from getting lost. Morrigan took the lead, somehow about to navigate, despite her  _ shem  _ nature. I wondered if she might had been unknowingly elf-bloody, trickled down descendant of Andruil, which would explain her disturbing similarity. I shook the uncomfortable thought away. And focused on bringing up the rear, following behind to make sure that no one strayed too far from the path. I watched Marina in front of me stumble forward like a confident drunkard, weaving a non-sencial path, as though the very idea of just stepping forward was offencive. 

At a fork in the road, Morrigan tugged sharply on the rope tied at her wrist, which caused Dorian who was being guided behind to change course abruptly and fall over his own feet and crash down hard on the tiled floor. 

Bull tried to run to his assistance, but missed by several feet. And ended up looking around confused that Dorian was six paces to his right. Using the rope and closing his eyes, Bull guided himself to Dorian by following the tautness of the connecting thread. 

‘Oh this place is just charming,’ Dorian grumbled, rubbing at a grazed knee and looking miserably in a direction I could only assume he thought the rest of the group were.  

‘You have to look without your eyes,’ Bull said cheerfully, and pulled him to his feet one handed. 

Dorian turned red, ‘look without your eyes?’ He snapped back, feathers ruffled and annoyance bubbling up, ‘what is that supposed to mean?’ 

Bull tapped the other man on the nose, which lead to Dorian swiping furiously in the air, ‘trust your gut, not your head.’ 

‘Gentlemen,’ Morrigan called back, fingers tapping with impatience on her staff, ‘shall we?’ 

 

Time, like the literal paths in the Crossroads, wove a distorted and disorientation pattern. It could have been five minutes since we had entered the  _ eluvian  _ in Skyhold or most of the morning by the time Morrigan had found an  _ eluvian  _ to take us to the Arbor Wilds. She tapped briefly along the frame, muttering incantations under her breath and curling her fingers in what looked like complicated spell crafting.

Merrill stood back watching, her arms crossed, not looking a lick impressed. ‘Morrigan,’ she snapped. 

The Witch did not even look up, ‘I am working,’ she replied with a hiss. 

Her tongue traced across her lips, and the blood mage moved forward, and laid a hand on Morrigan’s arm. Effectively moving her from the  _ eluvian.  _ Merrill whispered a few words of elvish and the mirror sprung to life, with a high pitched buzz that faded after a few heartbeats. Then she turned to the other woman and tapped her forehead, ‘the well remembers the code.’ 

‘I was getting there,’ Morrigan replied coldly. 

‘I was getting bored.’ Merrill echoed in the same tone, and without a backwards glance she stepped through the mirror. 

Marina watched her go, with a touch of concern and followed directly after. Her steps sure and confident, as though her instinct to follow Merrill overrode the delirium of the Crossroads. 

Herding the rest of the party through, I was the last to leave the Crossroads. And for the moment that I was alone, it suddenly felt oppressive. As though the very air as pushing against my skin, wishing for me to get out of this place. Happily I obliged and found myself in perfect darkness. 

‘I’m blind!’ I heard Dorian exclaim in alarm. 

Then there was a massive screech of wood tearing apart, beams breaking and timbre ripping. My hands flew to my face to protect my eyes from the sudden brilliant light. Once my eyes had adjusted, a very smug Bull was leaned against the side of a marble structure, a pile of broken debris at his feet. From the pieces on the ground, it looked like a door or gate of some kind, that was at least four inches thick. 

Dorian was gawping. 

‘Want me to flex, pretty boy?’ Bull asked in a stage whisper. 

Morrigan snorted with amusement, and pulled the rope from her wrist, leaving it dumped in a pile on the floor. And she stepped out into the open air. 

The  _ eluvian  _ room had been hidden by vines, untouched for centuries. On the other side was a large circular arena, with a thick white brick lining the edge of the area. Every so often there were large arches, leading to alcoves just like the one we had come from. 

‘There had better not be lions,’ Dorian muttered spinning in a circle to look wearily at the overgrown seating. 

Marina’s hands were fluttering uselessly behind Merrill, who was striding forward. She flashed a fatigued look at Dorian, ‘lions?’

He grimaced, ‘it looks like a gladiatorial ring.’ 

‘There’s a reason for that,’ Merrill offered loudly, and spun on her heel walking backward, ‘before we had the  _ Hahren’al _ , we had this.’

My fingers instinctively reached up to my forehead to the lines burnt into my face. The scars had faded a little, as they no longer stood raised from my face. Glancing around the arena, I imagined the faces, hundreds of them, nobles and elders waiting and watching for Mythal’s judgements.  _ I wondered what judgement Mythal would have passed upon me _ .

Merrill spun again, still moving purposely forward, till she came to a large statue of Mythal. Perfect and pristine, but overgrown. A crown of tiny white flowers grew sleepily around the brow of her dragon face. She stopped just before the step onto the raised dias where the statue resided and turned to Morrigan, face grim. ‘Go on then.’ 

The Witch drew out her book, and flipped through the pages, ‘give me some space,’ she snapped at Dorian who was trying to peer over the top of her shoulder. 

Shrugging off the insult, he strode away to one of the sun-bleached walls. Bull followed him, picking a water skin from his pack and offering it to the Mage. 

Marina made her way to Merrill, ‘are you feeling alright?’ She asked, her hands fluttering. 

A determined frown crossed Merrill’s face, and she rubbed two fingers against the side of her temple, ‘this isn’t going to work.’ 

With her book in hand, Morrigan began to speak aloud, ‘we few who travel,’ she paused, and squinted at the book, ‘a great distance.’ 

‘Give me that,’ Merrill snapped. And for once Morrigan did not object, simply handing the book over without protest. ‘It’s an obscure dialect.’ She said after a heartbeat, ‘rarely spoken in the time of Arlathan.’ Her words were kind, almost, friendly. 

Standing before the altar, Merrill spoke words that made my bones ache with longing. Words that made my skin tingle and my soul became suddenly aware of everything that had been lost. I couldn’t understand what she said of course, but the music of her words were so perfectly sweet that I couldn’t help but be swept up in the tide. 

And then Merrill finished speaking. 

Nothing happened. 

She closed the book with a snap, and handed it limply back to Morrigan, ‘it was worth a try.’ 

_ Mythal was dead, Abelas had told us so, it was a foolish- _

‘Um, Boss?’ Bull said weakly. 

I turned around to see a thick mist was billowing out from the floor of the arena. Silvery white smoke, that smelt faintly of apple and honey tea that Deshanna used to make, like the woodsmoke that filled our  _ aravals,  _ and like thick warm halla wool blankets. I gasped as the sudden emotion ripped through my chest, half sure I had broken a rib in the process. 

A soft thump, and Merrill next to me was on her knees. And I knew I should follow, intentional or not, my legs would not hold out for long. 

Then the mist cleared, and a tall woman with silver hair appeared in the smoke. Her figure obscured. She stepped forward, and Merrill’s face contorted. She groaned and her palms turned to her forehead as though a thousand voices were screaming. ‘ _ Asha’bellanar? _ ’ She breathed, ‘I don’t understand.’ 

Her hand cupping Merrill’s face, and suddenly her expression turned tranquil, ‘ahh, do you know how I am now?’ 

‘Mother?’ Morrigan spluttered, her book fell from her hand and landed on the grass with a little thud. 

I glanced between Merrill and Morrigan, and then at the woman who had answered our prayer to Mythal. I felt a sickness that I couldn't describe, as though someone had pushed from me from a high cliff and I was tumbling, tumbling down to the ground.  _ She was unmistakably human.  _


	171. Shard

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> If you smash a mirror, you get hundreds of Shards. When Iseshena meets the Shard of Mythal, she can't help wondering how many pieces there really are.

_When Merrill and I had stood before Abelas, she has taken my hand. And I knew we were united, presented the Dalish front. Together facing the past with as much dignity as we could master. But now, she was turned from me, on her knees before a_ shem _._

A nervous giggle sprung up from the back of my throat, croaking forward like a frog. Morrigan’s mother, of course, who else would answer the call sent out for a goddess. They looked almost similar, and the decidedly human woman, gave a sort of languid smile as her focus shifted between Merrill and Morrigan. The cat-like yellow eyes darted between the two delightedly, as though trying to work out which sweet treat she should devour first. 

‘You’re human?’ I questioned, slowly, before I could stop the words from tumbling out of my mouth. 

Mythal, the great goddess was before me? _Asha’bellanar_ I could believe, but surely not Mythal? Wearing _shem-skin_? It was so laughable, unreal. I wanted to grab Merrill by the shoulders and drag her upwards. 

Before I could move to Merril, the woman snapped a look around to me, the same yellow eyes that she had given her daughters, a yellow so deep that her glare pierced through my soul. Under her gaze, my bones splintered and cracked. ‘It has been a long time since anyone has called me that, girl. It would do you well to leave the judgement to me.’ Her voice was dusty, aged and ancient, but so sure and full of all the trappings of power that I could do nothing but drop my head meekly in chastisement. It couldn’t be?

‘You should be dead,’ Morrigan snarled, reaching for her staff. 

A heartbeat later, Merril spring to her feet, her eyes misted over, her own staff in her hand. Feet planted against Morrigan and staff pointed at her neck. 

The Witch, glanced at the elf, ‘what have you done?’ 

 _Asha'bellanar_ barked a harsh laugh, ‘did you summon me to tell me what I am not? Some call me Flemeth,’ she inclined her head mockingly towards Hawke, ‘others call me the Lady of Many Years,’ and her hand snapped out towards Merrill’s back, then she turned to calmly regard her daughter, ‘what _you_ believe doesn’t matter. She came to me, clawed her way across the ages. For I suffered as she suffered, and together we will bring our vengeance.’ 

Then she looked at me, almost optimistically as though her little speech might be enough for me to rejoice and fall to my knees. I had worn her _vallaslin_ for most of my adult, but her words were so uninspired. _Where was the dragon-faced lady that had saved me from the Winter Palace? Motherly kindness, and a gentle push in the best direction?_

‘Right, and you couldn’t find a single elf in Thedas who had suffered?’ I snapped, willingly staring down the woman who claimed to be a goddess. 

Flemeth gave me a pursed smile, and stepped forward to the still frozen Merrill. Statueque in her war-like pose. A gentle hand stroked softly down her black hair, and she lent to whisper something into her delicate leaf-ear. 

The elf shuddered under her touch, vibrating to the tune of some unheard rhymth, her staff dropped limply to the floor. The green of her misted eyes faded, until her whole eyes shone pure white. 

 _She is enthralled to Mythal,_ Solas’ words drifted from the dark corners of my mind, _she is her creature now._ In that moment, I believed. 

‘No!’ A scream so heart wrenchingly feral ripped through the arena, echoing from the walls and sending scores of birds screeching away to safely. ‘No!’ Marina shrieked again, stumbling forward as though half-sleepwalking. Shaking her head furiously as though trying to push the sleep out. She dropped clinging to Merrill’s waist, ‘please, don’t hurt her.’ She begged of Flemeth, crying and shaking and begging on her knees.

For one long heartbeat nothing happened. And then Mythal stepped back, and she withdrew her delicate fingers from Merril’s hair. 

The moment the touch was broken the elf perked up, and blinked rapidly for a few moments and then looked down confused. ‘ ‘Rina?’ She queried, and put a hand to her head, squeezing her eyes shut with pain.. 

‘You see child,’ Flemeth snapped at Morrigan, ‘you were never in danger from me.’ Then she turned, stalking away into billowing mist that had not been there a moment before. 

I watched as Morrigan dropped heavily to the step of the dias, and glanced across at me. Breathing hard. She didn’t say a word. 

But Marina was sobbing hard onto Merrill, her hands clawing at the back of her cloak, ugly tears streaming down her face. ‘I couldn’t move, I couldn’t speak,’ she pulled back, and scratched a jagged path down her own throat as though to illustrate. Face puffy red and eyes half shut, ‘I couldn’t lose you.’ 

‘I’d only be less me,’ Merrill said softly, as though it wasn’t the most terrifying thing in the world, flattering the hand on her forehead out, ‘but she’s already here. She was in the Well, and she was shattered, and I have a Shard.’ 

From somewhere off near the wall of the arena, I heard Bull coughing. A sickly wet sound that half sounded like he was trying to cough his lung up. ‘Didn’t like that, Boss.’ 

Dorian for his part looked utterly dazed, ‘demon?’ He asked, voice a little shaky.

‘ _Evanuris_ ,’ I offered back, remembering the suppressive power that Andruil had wielded against me in my dream. I felt so guilty, I had brought them here.  

‘Oh goodie,’ Dorian retorted, then brushed his hands off on his leggings and stood up, ‘not the worst hangover I’ve had this week.’ He commented to Bull, whose face was practically green. Dorian managed to dodge back a few paces as Bull gloriously emptied his stomach on the ground. ‘Honestly.’ He snapped, ‘do try to keep up.’ 

Leaving his paramore on the ground, Dorian strolled over, he eyes the still sobbing Marina but didn’t question it. ‘So did we at least get any help against Corypheus.’ 

I grimaced, ‘well, it was a bit of a shock, and,’ I wrung my fingers together. Not looking at him.

‘Iseshena?’

‘Didn't think to ask.’ 

Merrill looked over, and placing a steady hand on the woman sobbing at her feet she turned to me, small victorious smile on her face, ‘she didn’t mean to show me, but she did.’ Then she raised her hands skywards and muttered a quick incantation. 

Raising my palm to shield my eyes I squinted into the brilliant blue sky. Then looked back to Merrill, who was frowning. I didn’t dare look at Dorian, who seemed thoroughly amused by the entire spectacular failure. 

A cloud passed over the sun, shading the arena in a cool shadow. 

‘Boss?’ Bull called. 

I glanced up, dread thick in my bones. _It wasn’t a cloud_.


	172. The Defender of the Temple

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Iseshena is just about coping with the idea that Mythal is alive, and she realises she needs to let the others know.

‘She’s starting to scare me,’ Marina confided as we made our careful way across the abandoned campsite. Merrill and I had fought over our next course of action, and she with Morrigan had guided the others back to Skyhold. ‘Merrill’s always been single-minded, but this,’ she broke off and perched her hands on her hips trying to make sense of what we had just witnessed. 

I looked across, and wiped the back of my mouth, my sleeve came away black from the soot that floated in the air. The heavy stink of delay and all the remained of the battle that had taken place. I didn’t need Solas to tell me that the Veil was thin here. I could feel the grasping hands of spirits clawing from the other side, the wraiths of the fallen. I gave Marina my best non-committal sound. 

‘Merrill had told me stories of Mythal of course, but I never expected,’ she trailed off, as her path was blocked by a large beam that had formed part of the command tent, she skirted it and picked back up on her musing, ‘we met Flemeth before, she saved my life.’ 

‘I thought Mythal had saved my life too, but I didn’t recognise that,’ I waved my arm back the way we had come, then glanced up to the sky for some understanding, ‘I didn’t recognise that person.’ 

Marina stopped short, ‘you don’t believe it was her?’ 

Dryly I replied, ‘she told me that my belief was not necessary,’ I sighed deeply, breathing in more of the poisoned air, ‘but the dragon was a big clue.’ I added bitterly, remembering the shining silver dragon that had come screeching and somersaulting across the heavens to answer Merrill’s summons. It had hit the ground of the arena hard enough to make the rest of us stumble back. But Merrill had approached it fearlessly, and petted its head, like it was an overgrown Mabari. 

The next stretch of ground became familiar, and I picked my way across the area, discarded tents and torn canvases littered every inch. The ground that had once been churned up into mud, had dried creating a pox-marked landscape. Each step threatening to twist my ankle. The last time I had been here was the morning before we had gone to the Temple of Mythal. I glanced to my left at the mountain where Solas has taken me to the ancient balcony. I sighed. 

I had been terrified, and awed to walk in her temple. Now I had met her, I felt utterly apart from her. Distant and distinct. As though Mythal was less somehow to me now. My personal piety smashed into reality and I still stung with the whiplash. 

‘I didn’t expect it either,’ I confessed to Marina as we approached the ruined bridge. 

Hawke crouched by the bridge, and picked up a pebble, she stood and threw it directly over the gap. The rock slammed hard into the wooden doors and clattered onto the tiled floor. ‘Hope they’re home,’ she said to me with a shrug. Her words as flippant as ever, but I could see the tense undercurrent that ran beneath. 

I didn’t reply. Instead dragging my boot along the dirt, I pushed some of the twigs on the path out of the way. There was a distinct change in tiling. Merrill had warned me not to come back, had told me in no uncertain terms that Abelas would kill me if I returned. Maybe we would be safe if we did not stray across the borderline. 

Merrill had refused to come with us,  _ if Mythal hadn’t told them, it was for a reason, surely?  _ But that I’d never been the Dalish way, the gods were not infallible. I didn’t question her, whatever small piece of Mythal that resides in the Well within her did not want to return. Which meant the duty fell to me. 

And I knew I had a duty, one that surpassed the inquisition, one that even surpassed my clan. The very heart of who I was, 

_ Keepers of the lost lore, walkers of the lonely path. _

I had to tell them, couldn’t let them wander lost like the shadows they had accused me of. Perhaps it was a foolish quest to try to prove something to people that would never see the Dalish’s worth. 

Minutes trickled by and the wind whipped up, tearing crispy brown leaves from the trees and dumping them on the ground at our feet. ‘Maybe no one is home,’ I repeated back to Marina glumly. 

A little whistle sang through the air, and I found myself a moment later in a heap on the ground. Hawke had pushed me out of the way of an arrow raining down. It stuck menacingly in the ground behind us, the shaft pointing back up at the Temple and to the archer. 

I pushed myself back into a sitting position and hauled myself back to my feet. I saw the hooded man was atop the first walled tier of the Temple, already notched another arrow to his bow. 

‘You were instructed to leave and not return,’ the archer shouted down. And I could almost picture the green branches of  _ vallaslin  _ that marked his face. 

‘Abelas,’ Marina scoffed, and then looked down at me, ‘Shena you’re bleeding.’ 

Looking down at my arm, I realised she was correct, and knew Abelas’ arrow had been meant for my heart. Breathing hard as my mind caught up to the idea that I’d been wounded, I suddenly felt significantly less charitable. 

I stepped back and cupped my hands to my mouth. ‘Mythal is alive!’ I bellowed across the moat like lake that encircled the temple. I resisted the urge to follow it with a particularly rude  _ shem  _ gesture. Instead cupping the strip of crimson on my arm. 

There was a long couple of heartbeats, ‘if she was alive she would have returned to us.’ He snarled at me. 

I was ready to dodge another arrow, ‘take that up with Flemeth, the Witch of the Wilds,  _ Asha’bellanar _ , who holds a Shard of her soul.’ 

Something in what I shouted must have sparked something, as Abelas lowered his weapon, then disappeared, for a moment I stared at the blank patch of all. Then felt a flicker of fear. Grabbing Marina by the arm, I spun, ‘there, delivered the message, let’s go.’ 

Behind me I heard he gates of the temple open, and I glanced back to see Abelas wall directly out. Where there had once been a bridge, with every step he summoned rubble from the lake which soured up and created a path for him. He stopped just short of the boundary line. His bow slung over his shoulder.

‘Why did you come here,  _ shadow?’  _ He asked.

Without turning fully back, I snapped, ‘the Dalish share what we learn.’ I turned back slowly, expression softening and I let go of Marina’s arm, ‘I thought you’d appreciate the knowledge.’ 

‘Your face,’ he murmured as I faced him, and I saw his eyes trace the branches of  _ vallaslin  _ missing from my own face. How stupidly proud I had felt that we shared the same design. ‘The one who was with you before, did he do this?’ 

A shudder racked through me and I bit my lower lip, ‘yes,’ I muttered back weakly towards the ground.

Abelas took the bow from him shoulder, and I glanced up already knowing his sentence. Merrill had warned me, Abelas had told me himself that he’d kill me. I tried to be brave, to ignore every instinct that told me to bolt. Maybe this was my last duty, not for the clan but for the elvhen who still walked the earth. 

He threw the bow at my feet, which startled me so much I jumped back in alarm. ‘May you remember Mythal,  _ lethallin _ ,’ his lips curled in disgust as he spoke the last word, ‘there is nothing more I can do for you.’ 

With a crack of stone screaming against stone, the bridge that he had constructed fell apart and into the waters. The icy cold water drenched us both and Abelas had disappeared. 

‘Great, now my hair’s going to get frizzy.’ Marina grumbled. 


	173. A Question of Provenance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Iseshena and Marina make it back to Skyhold unscathed. And Iseshena discovers that there are unseen consequences to her actions at the Arlathvhen.

Stumbling back through the  _ eluvian,  _ and letting go of Marina’s hand. I could hear the distant echoing symphony of the Chant of Light being sung from the tiny chapel near-by. How laughable their devotions in the cubby-hole next to the cupboard where we stored our ruins. Both cultures trying to reclaim something intangible, something precious, something that had been lost.

Readjusting Abelas’ bow, well I guessed it was my bow now, onto a good position on my shoulder I glanced back to Marina. The bow felt a little too heavy, both for being made for a man taller than me by most of a foot, and by the sheer weight of history that it contained. I neither knew the year it had been made or purpose, but it had been lovingly taken care of. Before he’d flung it in my face, a reward of sorts for a knowledge of a kind. How odd the bow for Mythal’s protector would find itself on my shoulder just in the moment when my faith in her was so decidedly compromised. 

_ The gods were laughing at us.  _

Marina looked a little green in the cheeks. The journey back through the Crossroads had been tough on her, I hadn’t wanted to dally and she’d been practically dragged back through a space where her body had not been designed to go. ‘War room?’ She asked, shaking her head rapidly to get rid of the distortion. 

I nodded blankly, she was absolutely right, we needed to report back what we had discovered. And with a feeling of dread in my bones, I knew I had to invite Solas, just like the Sentinels at the temple, he deserved to know. ‘I’ll meet you there.’ I offered grimly. 

We parted in the main hall, with Marina off to find Merrill. I glanced upwards at the ceiling, looking for some kind of reassurance. A futile gesture that made me feel a little more self-assured anyway. But while I was looking up I managed to collide straight into a  _ shem.  _ ‘Sorry,’ I muttered absently and tried to skirt them. 

‘ _ Tel’abelas _ ,’ the woman shrugged, before her face spread into a warm smile. ‘Iseshena!’ 

It was Keeper Anthonia, breathless I smiled back, ‘Keeper, what are you doing here?’ 

She searched my face for a moment, and once again I felt the flush of shame that I was barefaced. ‘Deshanna told me about the,’ she trailed off and gestured with her hand lightly to her face. Then she glanced away for the moment, ‘don’t you remember, you said anyone that disagreed with Hawen could join you here. I brought my clan.’ 

‘Ohh,’ I gasped, feeling a surge of emotion that I couldn’t quite place, gratitude that I wasn’t alone, and guilt that I’d uprooted her clan. ‘You came.’ I whispered, and worried I might start blubbering on her. 

The Keeper laughed, ‘we passed more Clans on the road,’ then she lifted her very long, very human leg and pointed down, ‘but they couldn’t keep us.’ She gestured over to the flamed throne, ‘your lady Josephine welcomed us,’ and she squared her shoulders proudly, ‘Clan  _ Dial’an  _ are now,’ she dropped into an approximation of Josephine’s accent, ‘valued allied of the Inquisition.’  

‘I am glad to have you with us,’ I said solemnly and I clasped her hands and we touched foreheads, though neither of us wore  _ vallaslin  _ on our faces. My heart felt lighter, maybe Mythal hadn’t ventured so far from her people after all. ‘Keeper, there is a meeting in the War Room, you are more than welcome.’ 

Anthonia gave me a curious look, ‘and where are you keeping your Room for War?’

Chucking under my breath, and knew her Dalish sensibilities found it odd to keep a good usable space for such a thing. But, I pointed out the directions and promised I would be along in good time. She parted from me in good humour and I looked over at the wooden door to the rotunda. Then I glanced around the room, seeing if I could spot another other Keepers, or anyone really that I should probably have a conversation with. Even Varric was missing from his usual drinking spot by the fire. The gods had not granted me anymore favours, so squaring my shoulders, I crossed the room to the door. 

Solas was stood over his deck, glaring down at a map that he had unfurled. His shirt sleeves rolled up to his elbows. The parchment was propped open on end with one of the luminous blue shards and I guess cold mug of something sickly and sweet on the other. His eyes darted back and forth across the paper, completely absorbed. 

I coughed, pointedly, and his glance flicked up. And then he stood, face unexpressive and his hands clasped behind his back. ‘Inquisitor.’ 

Running my tongue irritatedly along my back teeth, I smiled that was more of a grimace, ‘Apostate.’ I countered. Then I flicked my head to the left, ‘war room.’ I turned on my heel, and my hands were on the door to leave when he spoke again. 

‘Iseshena?’ His voice echoed back around the rotunda, giving me the eerie impression that he wasn’t entirely alone. 

Sighing I turned back to him.

He was staring just behind me suddenly looking a little flustered, eyes soft and blue in the candlelight, ‘how did you come to acquire that bow?’ 

I shrugged it off my shoulder and weighted it lightly in my hands. It had been created by merging metal and wood, the ends glinted brilliant white, and the middle was a delicious swirl of silver, engraved with an archaic script that I could not even begin to attempt to read. ‘Oh this old thing?’ I asked and had to scoff a laugh at my own poor joke, ‘Varric would kill me if I spoiled the end of a perfectly good story.’ I waited for a moment, feeling the warmth of layers of enchantments radiating from the bow. But when Solas neither moved nor spoke another word I added, ‘Abelas gave it to me.’ With more effort than I was used to I pulled the empty string back, and loosed a pretend arrow straight into the air above me. 

The satisfying twang echoed back around the rotunda and up into the rookery above.

His dark eyes turned from me, and he pushed the shard away to roll his map up, ‘I will be there shortly.’ 

I bit my tongue at the sharp dismissal, but turned anyway. My hand unconsciously falling to my wrist, where my woven band had once lived. Nothing there, but my nails dug into the flesh at my wrist just the same. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Notes on Translation
> 
> Clan Dial’an - hidden heart. (from Project Elvhen. Diala - hidden, An - heart.)


	174. The Chosen One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Iseshena meets with her 'elf council' in the War Room, and she's staring to realise that there is something very wrong with Merrill.

I was sat on the far edge of the War Table, body twisted towards Merrill and legs swinging down. Ignoring the eyes on me, I was fiddling with a tiny painted model that had represented one of Corypheus’ troops from the battle at the Temple of Mythal. The door opened, and I watched as Loranil sneak through, throwing me an apologetic glance. 

I smiled to myself and placed the token down, ‘we’ve just returned from the Arbor Wilds,’ I began, ‘and we,’ I paused finding the words. 

‘Mythal came to us, approached through the silver mists of history,’ Merrill stated, in a quiet voice full or awe and adoration. She raised her hands up around her face in the gesture of prayer and continued. ‘She same to us and offered the divine shape of the dragon to aid us in battle against the Magister.’ 

Loranil let out a little exclaim of praise. While Keeper Anthonia shushed him, she couldn’t wipe the smug smile off her face to make the chastisement stick. Anthonia glanced at me, but I couldn’t bring myself to smile with her. 

Merrill glanced around the little gathering, lingering for a single heartbeat on Solas, who was stood towards the back close to the door, ‘with Mythal’s blessings,  _ I _ can more than match Corypheus in strength.’ 

All eyes had turned to Merrill, and I couldn’t help the twisted look on my face.  _ That wasn’t really what had happened, was it? _ I bit my tongue, to stop myself from adding the bit where Mythal had done some magic on Merrill to make her go all funny.  _ Maybe Merrill had already forgotten? _

The only other people to see confused rather than excited was Marina who passed me a concerned look. I dropped my head down to look at the little painted token, that would be what this battle came down to, tiny painted blocks outnumbering other tiny blocks. 

‘You are the first of our kind to meet the gods in this age, you are Chosen.’ Loranil said, invoking the mythological title. I glanced at him, and then at Merrill, in the more purist traditions there was a prophecy of kinds, that each of the gods would appear to elves they had chosen as harbingers of a new age. The new age when the gods would once again walk Thedas. His eyes were watching her carefully, as though it wasn’t just a religious sentiment. 

I flicked my gaze to Merrill, expecting her to reject the title out of hand. It was a foolishness, as foolish as calling me the Herald of Andraste. But she was looking down, a mockery of meekness, the corner of her mouth quirked up in a triumphant smile. 

_ The Chosen of Mythal,  _ now walked among us. 

‘How did you break Mythal from the veil?’ Vaelentine asked, who as newly created First was beginning to take over duties from my mother. She stepping forward to the table and half reaching over for Merrill, likely wishing to share in the new found glory. 

‘We didn’t’, I cut across Merrill, ‘she was never locked away.’ My words sounded bitter and wretched. And I was suddenly furious, but I wasn’t sure if I was more angry at Mythal or Merrill. 

_ The Dalish were wrong.  _

My knowledge seemed to infect the room like a poison and it was Keeper Anthonia who broached the topic first, ‘so where was she?’  _ Why did she not come to us? Why did Mythal spend her time in the Kokari Wilds, stealing Chasind men for her pleasure? While her people were oppressed. _

‘She was broken,’ Merrill answered sorrowfully, as though the very words were tearing her apart to even speak, ‘shattered.’ Her hands mimicked an explosion, and then clapped down on the table with a single dramatic thump that echoed around the War Room,  ‘she was reduced to a single shard resides in  _ Asha’Bellanar.’  _

_ Maybe Merrill should take up a career on the Orlesian stage,  _ I thought cruelty, and looked away from her.

‘But,  _ Asha’Bellanar  _ is,’ Anthonia stuttered, her hands wrapping across her waist as though she was trying to contain her fury, knuckles white with the effort, ‘are you telling me, Mythal is wearing  _ shem-skin?’  _

_ Fuck. It was not fury that Anthonia felt.  _ I watched as the Keeper’s eyes grew wet, and her breathing hitched. She rolled back a sleeve, to lightly touch the adapted  _ vallaslin  _ that twisted like vines up her arm. She was marked for Mythal, and Mythal had taken her shape. 

Merrill offered her a small nod and a small smile. 

‘So the Sentinels were wrong?’ Loranil called, running a hand through this auburn hair. ‘I thought they said that she had died?’ 

The  _ Chosen _ didn’t have an answer, but I did. I pulled one of my legs up onto the giant War table, ‘no, not wrong, at least,’ I winced, ‘Mythal never returned to her temple, they didn’t know she survived.’

Merrill waved a little hand as though it hardly mattered, as thought the sentinels were the least of anyone’s concern. I felt dizzy. I saw Marina’s look of stoney silence, and I realised I needed to get out of that room. Slipping down from the table, I dropped the token piece back on the table and edged around the outside of the room. 

‘Excuse me,’ I whispered, pushing past Keeper Anthonia and then Solas to get to the door. 

Just before I head the door close behind me, I heard Merrill’s smug voice offer in a stage whisper, ‘she’s jealous.’ 

Freezing and clenching my hands by my sides, I took two steadying breathes, and as I was about to move, I felt a hand on my shoulder. I turned to see Solas, how had followed me out of the room. 

He didn’t say a word, but with a look he was asking how I was. 

‘I’m not jealous,’ I hissed, indignant. And stalked through Josephine’s office. I flew an annoyed hand back in the direction we had come from, ‘I have no wish for that,’ then I glanced down at my own green hand.  _ Or this.  _

‘Merrill’s words are not her own anymore, have you not noticed?’ He asked in a mildly curious tone, but he was tense and his eyes were watching carefully as ever. 

_ Fuck.  _ I glanced back to the War Room, and not convinced we were out of earshot, I grabbed him by the hand and took the staircase down towards the wine cellar. I stopped and turned to him, ‘you were right,’ I acknowledged, ‘the Well enthralled her to Mythal, Flemeth came and controlled all of her actions.’ I bit my lip to stop myself from adding,  _ I’m scared, help me. Or worse, I’m scared, I miss you.  _

‘Flemeth is controlling all of her actions.’ He looked away from me for a moment and dusted his hands across the tops of his thighs, he paused uncertain, ‘I believe the Well kept a memory of Mythal, a thousand thousand priest’s perceptions and recollections of her. Flemeth shaped them into something more.’ 

His words struck me in the throat, but they didn't make any sense, ‘you’re saying that Flemeth made a new shard in Merrill?’ 

Solas inclined his head, confirming my question. 

I rubbed at my eyes, and walked a few paces away, before returning. Nervous energy bubbling into pacing, I turned back to him.  _ He was on the other side.  _ ‘Are you in danger from her?’ 

The question seemed to confuse him for a moment, and then he gave me a little smile that did not reach his eyes, ‘for the moment, she has not concerned herself with me.


	175. A Traitorous Inheritance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Keeper Hawen returns to Skyhold, seeking sanctuary for his clan. Can Iseshena forgive him?

Marina had just left, the door of my quarters slamming closed behind her. I had passed on the information Solas had given me, but both of us felt powerless to react.  _ What could we do to save Merrill? How could we get her back? _

The emptiness overwhelmed me, and I glanced towards the shrine on my balcony. But did not move towards it, instead I pulled the little hipflask half full of elfroot out of my hip pocket and drained. Grimacing slightly at the taste, I tossed the empty container at my desk. It missed and landed heavily on the floor. I closed my eyes, sighed and went to pick it up. I placed it carefully on the desk and sat down at my desk. 

There was as always a growing pile of paperwork that needed my attention. But, I rubbed at my eyes,  _ damn it all.  _

 

Half an hour later I heard a little knock at the door at the bottom of the steps and a few heartbeats later heeled shoes climbed the stairs and Josephine appeared. 

With her clipboard in one hand she knocked lightly on the wood of the banister when I did not immediately look up. 

‘Inquisitor, there is a clan is downstairs seeking sanctuary.’ She started carefully, and her candle on her clipboard wobbled precariously. 

I nodded, and waved the end of my quill at her, ‘yes, yes, they are welcome, valued allies. You know the drill.’ 

She paused and glanced nervously down at the paper on her clipboard, ‘it’s Keeper Hawen.’ 

The quill fell from my hand splashing ink across the page. ‘What? No, that’s impossible’ 

Josephine’s look told me that it wasn’t.

I sighed, and smoothed down my jacket, ‘this should be fun.’ I muttered to myself, feeling the exact opposite. I glanced towards the shrine on my balcony, ‘Dirthamen untangle this one, why has he come here?’ 

 

It took me longer than it should have to get down to the hall. I checked my hair twice in the mirror, wondering if I should style it to cover the burn marks on my forehead. But my definence told me not to, let him know exactly what he’d done. 

 

_ I paused before I entered the main hall, could I face him again? Did I even want to? Should I have told Josephine to send him away? What if he came to accuse me of more things I hadn’t done? Or worse, what if he came to apologise? _

 

I entered the hallway, not even looking at the mage knelt before the inquisitorial throne, flanked by three of his clan. I hoped his knee’s bleed, I thought furiously. The man did not look up at me, when I walked across the floor, nor did he peek up when I sat down lightly. The man was too tall, wearing the wrong clothes, his hair was all wrong. I frowned,  _ it was the wrong man _ . 

‘ Moherinal,’ I paused for a moment as I found myself stumbling over his new name, ‘Hawen, I was told Keeper Hawen was here to see me.’ My voice turning crisp and sharp as a dagger.

The man that had once been my First, flinched and tried to cover it. I saw him glance at the woman beside him. 

She was the Hearthmistress, her name escaped me. But I realised she was the one who had let me pass through her camp to get to Dehnan all those months back. She gestured softly to the man next to her, an encouragement of sorts. 

Moherinal answered quietly, ‘I am Keeper Hawen.’ 

_ Fuck.  _ I rubbed my eyes, his clan looked ragged.  _ Had they been attacked?  _ He didn’t even have Keeper’s robes or his hart. ‘What happened to Hawen Hawen?’ 

Moherinal didn’t answer me, instead the Hearthmistress glanced up, but didn’t look me in the eyes, ‘we are all that is left of Clan Hawen, there was a fire.’

Then Moherinal drew in a shuddering breath, ‘and I am here to beg sanctuary.’ 

‘Who started the fire?’ I asked feeling a creeping numbness.  _ I knew, I knew the answer before I’d asked. I knew exactly what had happened from their soot stained clothes and their hollowed expressions.  _

Moherinal fiddled with a small ring he was wearing on his little finger. ‘The previous Keeper started the fire.’ He said so quietly I was sure I’d heard. But I didn’t need to hear, I could see everything I needed from the ring on his finger.

A too small ring, without the tell tale flash of enchantment told me that his succession had not be smooth. His inheritance had been fought for in fire. 

I sighed heavily,  _ I had warned them,  _ ‘you betrayed me,’ I asked him calmly. ‘You sold me out, and now you have come here?’ 

The man’s shoulders slumped down, I was breaking down whatever pride he had left. ‘Please, Hellana-’

_ ‘Iseshena _ , it’s Iseshena now, you should remember. I do recall you were there when they took my name from me.’ 

He nodded, shoulders almost crumpled on the floor before me, ‘Iseshena,’ he tried again, ‘I will accept any punishment you deem fit, just please protect my clan.’

This was not the man I had known, ‘why?’ He’d cursed me. He’d betrayed me. He’d tormented me for years as the arrogant First. I’d thought about the revenge that I would enact, but now I just pitied him. He looked like a different man who I’d left at the Arlathvhen just three months ago. 

‘I betrayed you,’ he acknowledged, cheeks red with shame, ‘but they didn’t. They are innocent. And if not for me,’ he paused, his tongue poked out over his lips, ‘do it for the lines we broke, for Mythal’s mercy.’ 

‘Look at me.’ I whispered. My face was blank of all the lines that had connected me to Mythal,  _ to all of her mercy, and to all of her vengeance _ . 

Slowly he did so, and I watched his eyes trace the empty space around my eyes and he paled. ‘Your face-’

‘Yes,’ I said and stood, stepping closer to him. ‘And you are not all that remains of Clan Hawen, Loranil has been with the Inquisition for months now.’ I watched him swallow as I stepped down from the dias. ‘Get up,’ I said offering him a hand. 

He paused for a moment, ‘please,  _ lethallan _ .’ 

I drew my hand back to me as though I’d been burnt.  _ The word cut into my heart like a dagger.  _ I raised an eyebrow at him.  _ Though, I supposed we did serve the same goal.  _

Then slowly I reached back down for him. The hall was deathly quiet as he climbed to his feet. 

‘You are welcome here,’ I said through clenched teeth, ‘my own blood carried your clan name, I would not turn you away. Be welcome as our valued allies.’ 

I did not touch my forehead to his, instead I gave him a  _ shem  _ handshake. 

_ ‘Ma serannas,’  _ he breathed, his accent sticking to my skin and ripping it away. 

I stood to leave, he reached out for my arm, ‘Iseshena,’ Moherinal rushed, half tripping over his words, an expression I couldn’t place on his face. Relief and fear, and something deeper all at the same time. ‘And what shall my punishment be?’

‘You’ll have to lead your clan well.’ I breathed. 

His chest fell a little, ‘that’s it?’ 

‘Would you like to be strung up outside the castle gates, it can be arranged.’ I whispered darkly. 

Moherinal shook his head, ‘no, of course not.’ So I shrugged my arms at him, ‘anything else you want?’  

He flushed, ‘oh, um, no.’


	176. Hipflask of Elfroot

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Not everyone is happy that Iseshena let Moherinal return, Sil has some strong thoughts.

‘You let him back, just like that!’ Sil bellowed at me from across the room. His hands gesticulating wildly, each arm movement punctuating a word.

I was curled up against the small sofa in my quarters, hugging a pillow to my chest, and I gave Sil a glum look, ‘I didn’t really have a choice, did I?’ 

‘Els, you always have a choice.’ But he quietened a little, and I knew that look from when he argued with Deshanna. He was preparing to let me win, and I couldn’t stand the dull acceptance. 

I took my hip flask from and ripped the top off, ‘and if I’d turned him away, it would have proven Hawen right, that I was just claiming Skyhold for myself.’ I paused takin a sip and grimacing at the cold earthy taste of elfroot. But I continued in my own defence regardless, ‘I wasn’t going to punish Emalien for what Moe did.’ I looked up, almost despairing, I needed him to fight me on this. Scream at me, and tell me how badly I’d fucked up, because I felt it. I just couldn’t feel it. I took another deep sip of elfroot to numb it.

Sil pushed a hanging braid from his face impatiently, ‘oi, share.’

I waved the hipflask, vaguely at him, ‘trust me, you don’t want this.’ Instead indicating at my bookshelf, ‘try the green spine.’ 

‘Els,’ he snapped boarding on the annoyed and reached over to swipe the hipflask from my hand. I pulled back a moment too late, meaning he smacked it straight out of my hand. The viscous elfroot potion dribbled into a sickly pool on the wooden floor. ‘Els,’ he repeated in a voice as numb as I felt. 

‘Please, don’t make this into a big deal,’ I whispered. Not quite begging, but I just could image he’d drag be down to Deshanna where I’d get a cup of tea and a kind but firm lecture on elfroot misuse. 

He shook his head and frowned, one hand on his hip as he weighted up his options. Then he dragged the wooden framed chair from behind my desk and another wooden chair from the corner of the room. Then he grabbed both of my hands and pulled my over, ‘talk to me under the boards?’ 

I gave him an apprehensive look as he flopped onto the floor, his head under the first wooden chair and the patted the ground next to him. Resignedly I lay down next to him. Gently resting my head between the legs of the wooden chair. ‘I feel like an idiot.’ 

‘Good, because you look like a right prat,’ he laughed. 

I couldn’t help but smile back. 

‘Is it your hand? Green glow giving you trouble?’ He asked, suddenly serious.

I flexed my hand, ‘it’s mostly fine, it’s fine.’

Sil gave me a sharp look, cobalt _vallaslin_ stretched taut across his cheeks, ‘so, since when have you been drinking elfroot for the fun of it?’ 

I snorted, ‘for the fun of it? Please, it tastes like mouldy dishwater, with the clumps.’ But he didn’t seem convinced and I knew he could tell when I lied to him, shaking my head I tried again, ‘since,’ I looked away, but gestured with my hand to my face. ‘It means I don’t feel it.’ 

He took my unmarked hand in his, ‘feel what?’ 

‘Anything,’ I confessed and made a study of the rough underside of my desk chair. ‘The Inquisitor cannot feel.’ 

His fingers twisted the woven band around his wrist, the Hunter’s luck, that had been Hellana’s, ‘and am I talking to my cousin or the Inquisitor?’

I blinked at him, ‘I don’t know.’ I replied softly. 

‘Hellana wouldn’t have accepted this.’ He replied, with a petulant look.

I nodded, ‘but, they killed her.’ 

‘No,’ he gasped, ‘no,’ he reiterated. And he grabbed my hand firmly, ‘you’re still here. You’re still got your terrible dress sense.’ 

‘Rude,’ I scoffed at him, and pulled my now favourite, although faded red jacket tighter around my waist. 

‘And you’ve still got our family’s disastrous taste in men, no getting away from that one.’ 

I stuck my tongue out at him, ‘do you include yourself in that?’

‘Of course, remember Maurice?’ He asked.

I clicked my fingers, trying to recall, ‘the Orlesian, with the nice legs?’

Sil snorted, ‘nice legs, but he didn’t even try to break up with me. Just disappeared and sent me a letter a year later saying he’d joined the Grey Wardens.’ 

‘I’m so sorry,’ I laughed, and covering my face with my hand to try to show him I really did feel bad. 

He was shaking his head, against the floor, trying not to laugh himself. ‘There wasn’t even a Blight!’ He moaned.

After our laughter subsided, he rolled onto his side, and he twisted a braid out of his face, 'you really think Moherinal was telling the truth?'

A knot of tension formed in my stomach, 'about what?' 

'Dirthanna and Hawen, stabbed by their Firsts as they were trying to set the clan on fire? It feels,' he fished around for a good word, 'unoriginal?'

Bitting my lower lip, I considered, there wasn't much I could say to that. I knew Sil well enough to know he was worried he was next, and there was nothing I could do to ease that worry. 'I'm here,' I said instead, trying to sound reassuring.

‘It’s you and me, Els. Say the word and we’re on the next ship off this cursed rock.’ 

‘And what if the rifts are everywhere? Not just Thedas?' I asked quietly, suddenly realising it wasn’t just Thedas that was relying on me to solve this. As much as I wanted to run,  _be brave, little hare _.

‘What if they’re not?’ He asked and raised a questioning eyebrow. ‘No rifts, no gods, no Moherinal.’ 

I chuckled, and rolled onto my side as well to mirror him, ‘there’s always Plan C,’ I swore. 

‘Plan Sea.’ He agreed. And reaching out his hand, little finger extended as a promise. I wrapped my own little finger round his and we shook on it. ‘Now promise me you’ll lay off the ‘root, or I’ll tell on you.’ 

Rolling my eyes I reached out, but glanced down at my left hand. It was like I’d touched an electrified rune. I was too shocked for the moment to realise the coursing pain in my arm was coming from my marked hand. 

‘Ahhhh!’ I groaned, as the green lightning charged through my bones, and I crumpled around my hand. Tucking it close to try to stop the pain. 

A heartbeat later the room shook furiously and the night sky erupted with light. 

Sil sat straight up in alarm, smashing his head into the chair and causing it to fall over. Still rubbing his head, he was stood over me, ‘Els?’ He whispered in alarm. 

I pulled my hand from the cocoon I’d created with my body, and it was bright and giving off waves of light and heat. 

‘I’ll get Solas,’ he said, already starting to move.

‘No!’ I shouted,  _I was dying_ , ‘get me Leliana.’ 


	177. Strangest of Servants

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Leliana and Iseshena talk about the future, and come to an arrangement of sorts.

_ I must have blacked out. _ At least, I have no recollection of climbing the ladder to my bed and changing my clothes. Nor do I remember binding my hand up in tight strips of cloth and soaking them with ice water. The numb was good to counteract the lightning erupting in waves from my arm but it wasn’t a permanent measure by  any stretch of the imagination. My palm flickered, no longer exploding in pain, but the buzzing pain was ever present. 

My mouth tasted like moth, and the sky was so overcast, with thick grey clouds, I couldn’t tell if it was early morning or high noon. I didn’t know how long I’d been asleep. 

Leliana was stood by the railing with her back to me, but whipped around when she heard my trying to sit up. My arm was too numb and couldn’t hold my weight, meaning I immediately fell back into the pillows. 

‘Iseshena,’ she breathed and perched on the side of the bed next to me. Clothed in purple that reminded me of Ghilan’nain, I realised I was talking to another great shapeshifter of this world. And I was about to ask her to change her form again. 

My voice croaked out an incomprehensible sound that had been supposed to be her name. I coughed until some of the cobwebs were cleared away. ‘Leliana, can I change the Divine’s writ?’ I eventually spluttered our. 

‘No,’ she said softly, and looked at me with concerned eyes. ‘You are not the divine, no?’ 

Cursing lightly under my breath, I pulled absentmindedly at the bandaged of my marked hand, the cold ice water ran down my arm and I shivered. ‘Can I add to it?’ I asked again. 

Pulling her leg up onto the bed with her fingers tented over it, her forest green eyes met mine, ‘what is this Iseshena? What are you thinking?’ 

Sighing, I rubbed at my eyes with my good hand,  _ I’d had a conversation like this before with Josephine in Haven _ . ‘If this kills me,’ I said steadily raising my bandaged hand. Then considered, I needed to protect the thirty or so clans that had made their way to Skyhold. 

My mind was buzzing, numb and awake, half a hundred internal voices vying for attention.  _ The clans did not gather in one place, except for the Arlathvhen. Which was protected by the combined might of all of the Dalish mages. Skyhold, as sacred a site as it may once have been, did not offer the same protection. What was to stop the headless Inquisition being overrun by Orlesian or Ferelden forces? Destroying the pocket of elves in the process. What was to stop the new Divine, whoever they would be called an Exalted March against what was left of us?  _

‘If this kills me,’ I repeated, ‘I need to know the people who are seeking protect here will not be hurt. I need a successor.’ 

She didn’t reply for a long moment as she considered my words, and what I was asking for, ‘Josephine would be better suited to this conversation, but you can always write a Writ in your own name.’ 

‘But will it be held to after I am gone?’ My voice shook a little on the last word, and I willed my face straight. Then I coughed so violently my back hurt. 

Her worries hands fluttered uselessly to try to help me sit up. And when I was comfortable again she settled back. Her finger poised on her lip as she gave her verdict. ‘There is no precedent, but you are known as Herald of Andraste, it stands to reason that the case can be made to that to disobey the Inquisitor’s Writ would be considered heretical. Perhaps only the new Divine would be able to overturn it.’ She said, looking off into the distance as she was considering what it would mean. Then she looked back at me suddenly, her eyes wide in alarm, ‘Iseshena, why am I here?’ 

‘Forgive me, I do not understand the subtleties, but you and Cassandra are candidates?’ I queried lightly, as I might ask her about the weather.

She blinked rapidly, ‘I had no wish for the Sunburst Throne,’ then she trailed off. Something new gleaming in her eyes. 

‘As I had no wish to be Herald of Andraste, your god calls the strangest of servants.’ I replied, grateful that there wasn’t a trace of the bitter tone I felt. Merrill had been right, I was a pinch jealous of her.  _ If I had to be the divine messenger why could I not be for one of my own? _

Leliana shifted on the side of the bed, ‘the left hand is in service to the throne, to seek to claim it, would,’ she broke off. 

I reached for her, my hand gently resting on her knee, ‘please, I didn’t seek to make you uncomfortable. I can take my offer to Cassandra if you,’ but she cut me off.

‘What exactly is your offer?’

I met her deep emerald eyes, ‘the Herald of Andraste will support you if you wish to be the next Divine. In return, Skyhold and it’s people are sovereign,’ I paused, the words sticking on my tongue. 

‘Oh,’ Leliana gasped, ‘you want Shartan’s sacrifice renewed?’

I blinked at her,  _ I wanted what now? _

She tilted her head to the side and watched me for a moment. Bard trained eyes absorbing every detail. ‘Do you still not have an answer to why the Maker chose you? Can you not feel his hands upon your shoulders?’

I resisted the urge to swipe the imagined hands away, ‘Leliana,’ I began, worried I’d gone the wrong way, it was a mistake to wrap this conversation in the cloak of faith and I was feeling distinctly uncomfortable.

‘He has guided you here to remind us that all are his Children, and the Dalish have been mistreated. I should take the Sunburst Throne, no? I can reinstate the Canticle of Shartan, and defend your Inquisitorial Writ. Do you think Cassandra would do that?’ 

Somehow she had interpreted my words into the context of her own faith, and I was almost shocked she had agreed so readily. ‘I don’t know what Cassandra would do,’ I replied certain in my uncertainty. 

Leilana stood, ‘let me get Josie, and she can write up the formal documents.’ She had the gleam of devotion in her eyes and I wondered if my people would forgive another of my sins. If they would accept my claim to speak for Andraste, if they would realise her words were my own.


	178. Sweetest of Sacrifices

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Iseshena packs up to leave Skyhold for the final battle.

The pale white wax dripped from the little pot, and pooled into a molten lump on the folded parchment. I picked up with the Inquisitorial seal and pressed it firmly into the wax, waiting for a few heartbeats until it was solid enough to leave an imprint. Rocking it from side to side and then pulling it away to reveal the eye of Andruil, I shook my head, the flaming eye of Andraste, pierced by the Sword of Mercy. 

Leliana’s scouts had brought the news, hours after my hand had exploded and I’d crumpled on the ground, that the Breach had been reopened. Haven had reappeared from under the rubble and summer meltwater from the avalanche I had caused. The town had been taken over by Venatori, and new fortifications had been raised on the site. The inquisition army had been ready to go, but it had taken a whole week to convince the Empress of Orlais to agree to send reinforcements, and for the King of Ferelden to allow the banished mage armies back on his soil. 

The sudden Venatori presence in the area had brought with it a new question. The Venatori had not been spotted on the Imperial Highway, and had seemingly sprouted in Haven overnight, so how had they got there? But I knew better than most the maze of underground tunnels that snakes through the rock beneath the settlement. And I prayed to all the gods that would listen that he had found these paths, and had not come through an  _ eluvian  _ network. 

My memories of Haven were tainted. And the thought of going back to Haven sent a shudder running through me, a shiver that I hadn’t been able to shake off in a week. The marked part of my hand twitched in anticipation, sparking and snarling in my palm. For all of Sil’s good intentions, it was only a constant taste of earthy elfroot that made the pain almost bearable. 

I looked down at the little wax sealed letter. It was to be left on my desk. Only to be opened in the event of my death, it would lead the reader to the dias in the great hall, to the Throne of Flames. Tucked under the chair was the Inquisitorial Writ, which proclaimed my support of  Leliana’s quest to become divine. And the holy Writ that would proclaim Skyhold an independent city state, forever free from the control of any of the large powers of Thedas. If our cobbled together plan worked it would mean that the city would be protected by the collective guilt of our Andrastian neighbours. In recompense for the Dales, Skyhold would become a centre of Dalish culture. And whenever the Divine has need to call and Inquisitor again, they must be Dalish. Someone from the forest, and someone who could see the wood for the trees. 

My fingers brushed over the seal, leaving a tiny print on the corner. The last touch of the Herald of Andraste. My last mark on the world,  _ my last duties.  _

I pulled my jacket up from the back of the wooden chair behind my desk. But for a split second pictured it being made of white fur. Andruil had asked me to destroy one of the veil artefacts, she had commanded me to touch the Orb of Transformation, and although my fingers had never grazed the foci, I was her White Rabbit. The sacrifice, the prey, her eye was upon me. 

Shivering I pushed up from my desk, and gave my quarters a final look and moved over to close the balcony door to keep out the biting icy wind. 

Then I turned to the stairs. 

 

Leaving the main castle to Skyhold, felt so usual and yet so utterly like the day I had left my camp near Wycome. With no woven Hunter’s band, I glanced around trying to place every brick into my memory, as I had no good luck charm to draw me back. My marked hand flared slightly, as though it was in tune with my emotions, and I twisted my fingers into the laces of my braver to draw it tighter around my wrist.

I spotted Varric across from the stairs lending against the little wall and peering down into the courtyard below. Marina was sat next to him, her back against the wall and her expression tight and focused. She spotted me and raised a hand in greet. I moved over to them, and realised with a sinking feeling exactly what Varric was watching. 

‘Daisy, isn’t looking too hot,’ he commented to me as I saw the scene playing out below. 

Merrill was head of a little group of elves, most of them from unfamiliar clans, faces I didn’t recognise. She was speaking so softly that I couldn’t make out the words, but her audience was listening rapt. 

Marina was playing with a small flick knife, opening it and closing it rhymically. 

From the corner of my eye, I watched a tiny elvish woman touch the branching lines of Falon’Din on her face as she gazed adoringly at Merrill. An action of praise,  _ and Merrill accepted it _ . My hand hurt, my head hurt. I blinked at the image before me. Perhaps my eyes had finally given up, I hadn’t been sleeping well. It was the worst I’d slept since Nightmare had been taunting me. I sighed. ‘She’s adapted to her new title quickly.’ I murmured bitterly.

Slapping the knife closed against her palm, Marina glanced up. ‘That’s,’ her breath escaped her lips in a hiss, ‘not my Merrill.’ 

‘She’ll always be yours,’ Varric said supportively, placing a heavy palm onto Marina’s shoulder. 

Nervously, she tapped against his hand, and gave him a pointed look. ‘She drank from the Well, and invited it in,’ 

‘She’s an abomination?’ Varric cut across with a sharp disbelieving whistle. Turning Bianca over in his hands. 

Without meaning to I snapped him a glare, ‘only if you’re calling my gods, demons?’ 

Varric shrugged an apology, which must have been on instinct as a moment later his face scrunched into confusion. His fingers tapping out a rhyme against the stone.

But Marina looked up suddenly, a dawning terrible recognition on her face, ‘do you think,’ she paused, her tongue peeled out to wet her lips, ‘a Templar could get her back?’

Varric gawped at her, open mouthed, ‘you’re kidding? Hawke, laugh now so I know you’re joking.’ He glanced nervously between me and her. Waiting for the punchline that wouldn’t come. He swore under his breath and turned back to watched Merrill below. 

‘Let’s not do anything rash,’ I spluttered, as my stomach twisted over.  _ We still needed whatever Merrill had become to fight against Corypheus.  _ And I raised my hands defensively, ‘I don’t think a Templar can cure that, she’s,’ I rubbed at my eyes, ‘it’s something older.’ 

‘I won’t leave her like this.’ Marina snapped at me. 

‘I know,’  _ I wouldn’t leave her like this either,  _ ‘we will deal with this when we get back,’ I promised Marina, not certain that I would live to fulfil that promise. ‘We’ll try everything.’ But Solas’ words ripples through my head,  _ enthralled to Mythal. It would not be easy.  _ ‘And if I don’t,’ I broke off, ‘Deshanna will find a solution,’ I offered, although I suddenly felt unsure. I glanced down again at Merrill and saw the white fur cloaking her as well, she’s sacrificed her will, her mind and her body to Mythal, this was the consequence. 

Marina glanced up, her own cheeks faintly green. The very thought of what she had proposed making her feel sick. ‘I just want her back.’ 

_ Gods are laughing at me _ . I had no more words of reassurance, so instead I squinted at the sky. It would take us four days to get to Haven. ‘We're burning daylight,’ I said, offering a hand to Marina to pull her up. 


	179. This is Goodbye

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The eve of the final battle with Corypheus, Iseshena finds herself dreaming.

The torches on the walls threw long shadows along the dark green tiled corridor. And my bare feet barely made a sound against the mosaic floor. I was following a sound of laughter, a high pitched girlish giggling that seemed to bounce down the hallway. Half pulled by curious, and half drawn by a force I could not fully articulate. My path twisted like a snake, reminding me in part of the Temple of Mythal. I expected a hurdle, a test, a challenge to present itself but none came. 

The giggling grew louder, an echoed mocking that resonated, higher and higher until the sound was strangling. I turned a corner and then it stopped. 

The walkway opened up into a large room, and I could see two figures near an arched fireplace. The room was cavernous, and I wondered if it could fit the whole of Skyhold inside, with room left over for the mountain. As I was considering this the room seemed to shrink, walls constructing like the grip of a python. 

Merrill was sat on one side of the table, she was the one laughing. She twisted as I approached and raised an eyebrow at the other. She stood and barely nodded her head, her fingers gripping the back of the chair as she shoved it firmly back under the table, ‘we shall see what tomorrow brings, and then decide.’ 

The fireplace crackled behind her, shrouding her in darkness as she walked toward me, towering over me in a way she had not before. She swept a mocking curtsy at me, ‘your worship,’ she snarled and threw her head back cackling. Her white teeth flashed, and as her head snapped back to face me I realised her eyes were clouded white. Silver, like the moon. _Enthralled by Mythal_. 

I watched as she walked past me, with each step fading from view, disappearing from existence. 

‘What are you doing here?’ The other asked me with a familiar voice, I turned round to see Solas. He was sat stiffly in the other chair, hands knitted together on the table top. 

I blinked at him, unsure why I had not recognised him, ‘where is here?’ I asked, gazing around at the old Dales architecture. Sloping arches, natural curves inspired by towering oaks and pristine mosaics. No, _elvhen_ architecture. 

A line appeared in his neck, the only indication of the turmoil of emotions under the surface of his pristine mask. ‘This is my dream,’ he began, with a tone that mostly did not betray his annoyance. 

‘I haven’t found your dreams since we were in Crestwood, the first time,’ I said quietly, unconsciously hooking my right hand over my wrist. Expecting the marked pain to flare, when it didn’t I looked down at my hand expectantly. Purely, clean skin. Without thinking I offered my hand out for examination, ‘it’s gone.’ I exclaimed happily. 

But when I looked at him, his dark eyes were drawn tight. ‘That is my hope for tomorrow, we will recover the orb and restore its powers to the foci.’ He looked away from me, blue eyes turning cold, ‘and you’ll be free.’ 

‘You say that like it’s goodbye.’ I said with a smile, but it died on my face when he did not reply. _It is goodbye._ I took the seat opposite him, and he glanced up surprised. ‘Why was Merrill here?’

He spread his hands across the surface of the table as though he was about to leave, but then froze. Both palms pressed against the solid carved wood. His shoulders dropped a fraction, and he nodded towards my hand, ‘if I fail,’ he broke off and his face crumpled for the barest of seconds before he remastered his neutral expression. He slid his hands off the table and dropped them into his lap. ‘I guess that is why you are here, I was thinking of you.’ 

Like I had done with the stones in Skyhold, I traced the lines of his face. Made note of the curve of his lip, the sharpness of his jaw, the shape of his ear. _If this was goodbye._ ‘I was thinking of you as well.’ I nudged my bare left hand across the table. 

‘Ahh,’ he murmured as though it was the key to solving a complex puzzle. He was looking at the hand I’d slide across the table, wearily, as though it was both dangerous and driftwood. 

The bridges between us were burnt the moment I’d painted a tree with my blood. But I wondered if there was anything to salvage. I took a little breath, and my tongue started out to wet my lips. 

His eyes watched the movement. 

‘I should apologise,’ I began softly, ‘I’ve done some things that I regret, I reacted and I should never have-‘

‘You do not need to apologise.’ He snapped, cutting me off, and looking across into the fire. The flames of the fire reflecting in his dark eyes. 

‘I was angry, but it’s no excuse for what I did.’ I said as calmly as I could , and curled my empty hand loosely. 

His expression changed, and he laughed almost nervously. Then looked fully back to me, his hand reaching out for mine and he ran his thumb gently across the mountains of my knuckles. _There is nothing to apologise for._ The words were unspoken, but I heard them all the same. 

The softness was a dagger to my heart. He pulled his hand back quickly, the table becoming a gulf between us. Distancing himself, and cutting us off. ‘I never wanted to hurt you, elvish was a language of intentions, even the clumsiest phrases were clear before the veil.’ He said softly, regret brushing colour into every shadow on his face. ‘I never desired to inspire your rage.’ 

‘I thought you betrayed me,’ I whispered and my voice cracked. 

He pushed up from the table, so quickly I flinched. He paced towards the fire and stood there, back to me. ‘I may betray you, yet.’ 

Slowly I stood, and picked my way over to him. The lightest touch against his arm caused him to turn back to me, but I held my hand there. Curious for the last feel of him. So close I could just lean up and-

‘Inquisitor,’ he offered impatiently, snapping me from the thought. And I saw his heart harden.

‘Solas,’ I returned, grief at what we had lost, grief at what we could not be. Then I dropped my hand from his arm, ‘what did you promise Merrill?’ I asked, voice rising in fear. 

His eyes locked on mine for heartbeats beyond counting, time lost all meaning in our imperfect battle of wills. ‘Iseshena,’ he breathed and resignedly dropped his head, and his forehead rested against mine. I felt the head of him against my skin, and I closed my eyes to drink up the sensation. ‘You have to wake up.’


	180. The Ascent

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Iseshena finds herself back in Haven, hunting magister.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Over 5000 hit!?! Ahhhhhh, really? Amazing <3   
> Huge thank you to everyone who has stuck with Iseshena this far! And massive thank you to everyone who has supported Rituals, with kudos and comments <3

A bolt of red lightning went coursing past my head, and I ducked from it instinctively.But when I reached back for a new arrow and found my quiver to be lacking.

The Venatori spellbinder waved his staff in a wide arc in the air, red sparks flying. And I ducked, running crouched toward pincushions foes. I pulled spent arrows from the bodies that draped the torn landscape. My heart was in my mouth as every time I paused to wrench an arrow free and dart away the space that I had been occupying was consumed with crimson flames. 

I stumbled and had to make do with the broken assortment of arrows I’d collected, twisting down on a knee I pulled the best one back in my bow and fired. Before I’d seen if it had hit I was already sprinting away. 

Tossing the tatty arrows back in the quiver, I kept running. The skeletal ruins of the Singing Maiden lay broken to my right, and I could see Moherinal ahead. He was not a battle mage, by any stretch of the imagination and he was having a difficult time of things. 

Grimly I used some of the scavenged arrows, and expect some kind of comment over stealing kills. But Keeper Hawen just looked relieved and raised a hand to me in thanks. Dirt and grim was streaked across his face, making his usual blond hair look dark.

I nodded back to him, and with a flash of forest green against my skin. I realised he was renewing my wards. 

Grateful, I moved over to him, ‘I’m making a rush for the mountain,’ I said grimly, ‘I need you to stay here and guard my back.’It was odd to think of Moherinal as anyone who could possibly be trusted to be guarding my back, but I could tell he was running out of energy. He wouldn’t make it to the top. And staying at the bottom of the mountain would give him the best chance to recover. 

‘No, ‘Shena, I can do it.’ He countered, knuckles white as he gripped tightly to his staff. His eyes tracing the sharp path up the mountain to the emerald green tear in the sky. 

I put my hand on his shoulder, ‘I know you can, but I need you here.’ Then pulled it back, and pulled a new arrow from my quiver. Moherinal flinched as I aimed just past his shoulder to hit a Zealot who had been trying to sneak up on him. 

Pale faced the Keeper nodded, ‘I’ll stay down here,’ he agreed no longer so reluctantly. 

Leaving him by the smashed gates of Haven, I raced ahead and found someone just behind me. Twirling round I found I had my bow aimed directly at Vivienne. The bare patch of her cleavage tauntingly exposed. Seemingly unarmoured, but I knew her well enough to know that it was all a Game, her bare skin was the most armoured part of her. ‘Fenedhis,’I swore and lowered the bow, ‘didn’t see you there.’

The corner of her mouth twisted up in amusement, ‘careful darling,’ she chastised. I didn’t know how she had managed to keep her robes almost spotless. But for the tiniest splash of muck at the back of her trousered hem, she could have walked into the Orlesian court and no one would have thought her underdressed. Shivering as she took over control of my ward from Moherinal, I saw the colour flicker from forest to a shimmering peridot. 

We pushed forward, collecting a raggedly breathing Sera, who’d decided that she’d have better luck fighting from atop Bull’s shoulders and had been thrown to the ground as he’d shielded her from a fatal blow. Bull from his part was smeared in gore, blood lust running through his veins and crimson dripping from his war axe. I sent Bull back to help Moherinal. 

Sera was limping slightly and clutching her side, and I was worried she’d damaged a rib. But she refused to be left behind at the bottom of the hill. 

‘Wahhh!’ Sera shrieked as she was taken unaware by a frost rune on the ground, the fabric of her leggings turned dusty blue as frost darted up her legs and she brushed at them furiously spraying the ground with tiny icicles. ‘Crap, stupid, balls,’ she swore. 

‘Careful Sera, there’s a rune beneath your feet!’ Marina called over as she used the blade end of his staff to impale a menacing Venatori against a broken pile of rubble. 

Sera stuck up a particularly rude hand gesture at her, still muttering curses under her breath. 

Taking the moment for breathing room, I examined the handful of arrows I’d gathered and threw out two that were utterly beyond use. 

As we paused, catching our breath, I noted how actually easy it had been to get through Haven. We had taken the Venatori camped by surprised, they had fortified the walls faced out and seemed completely unprepared for the Inquisition army to come swarming out of the broken chantry. 

There was a ripple of pure power in the air that was not tied to any of the usual elemental forces. And I glanced up to see Merrill almost skipping through a large group of stunned men. She looked half giddy, with crimson streaks running up her arms, and wearing a lost, glassy expression. Without stopping she made her way straight through the centre of our little gathering and began the path up to the mountain. 

Marina exchanged a worried glance with me and followed after her. And her face was darkened for a moment as the shadow of a great winged beast flew overhead. Merrill’s dragon had joined the fight. 

Recognising that our respite was over, I trudged after her, with a gesturing hand to wave the rest up with us. 

The mountain path was as steep as I remembered it being, although the lack of ice should have made it considerably less dangerous, in its place was a slick mud made each step potentially risky. 

At some point during the ascent I noticed that Solas had fallen into step next to me. I didn’t look at him. I couldn’t look at him, I couldn’t be distracted. 

‘Iseshena,’ he said softly, ‘remember our aim is the recovery of the orb.’ 

‘We’ll get it back,’ I promised resolute and glanced across. This was almost where I had met him, if everything went to plan. He’d take the orb and absorb the power back into the foci. If everything went to plan I knew he was going to disappear the moment it was successful. If everything went to plan... my heart hurt so I increased my pace, walking away from him up the hill to face the Magister that claimed to be a god. 


	181. White Rabbit

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Iseshena meets Corypheus again.

Dazed I landed on my back. 

I could only hear a dull throb that could have been the dragon’s roar or my own heartbeat thundering in my ears. I lifted my hand to my head, and it came away sticky and red. I blinked at it, unable to understand how I’d come to this point. We trekked up the mountain, and found the way into the Temple of Andraste was blown apart, a new explosion to rip through the debris created by the first time the breach had erupted. Corypheus had appeared to mock our efforts, but soon after he had fled. Whether in fear or to lead us into a trap, we could not tell. We somehow found a path, and I grew more and more convinced we were walking into a trap. If we lost him for too long, he would reappear to guide us. 

We were careful not to kill him, aiming only to wound until his dragon fell from the sky. Otherwise he would jump bodies and we would have to begin again. Each time, he reappeared our numbers dwindled, he was slowly wittling my companions away. Till finally, it was only me.

As I cornered him, he had raised his hands. So simply, but the ground itself had torn itself apart. Boulders took on a dreamlike quality, floating like pumice stones in the bitter air. 

Above me a shining silver creature, twisted in the air, ducking in clouds to strike rogue-like against the black beast that fought back with screaming claws and teeth. In the skies above Mythal’s divine shape, doing battle with the manifestation of Dumat’s conductor. Two ancient forces pitted against each other, and the stakes were all of Thedas. A re-enactment of sorts, and I wondered if these dragon’s ancestors had fought over the burning ruins of Arlathan. 

The air got thin, and the clouds began to foam, whipped up and fluffy like the white horses that rode the crests of sea waves. I found myself in a pristine, brilliant blue world. At the mercy of Mythal, in this upside down ocean. 

While down here, the unbelievers fought. He had gazed upon the throne of the gods and found it empty. While I, the Herald of the wrong god, stood barefaced. I had turned my back on her. Was jealous of her Chosen. I was utterly alone. 

I reached back for another arrow, and realised my quiver was empty. I’d used all my arrows on him. 

Red lyrium shards sticking out of his skin and rotten flesh hanging from his face, he approached me. I twisted round, and saw his figure, I could only gawp at him. 

He mouth moved in a mockery of speech, but I couldn’t understand the words. Couldn’t hear them, and couldn’t understand them. He paced closer like a hunter to their injured prey. 

Scrambling on my hands and knees, I pushed away from him. Clawing desperately at the ground to get me away from him. My vision clouding as the open wound, dribbled fresh blood. My fingers found purchase, on tiny square pieces and I knew I was concussed. Under my desperate hands was a perfect, circular mosaic of Mythal. 

Gasping, my hand traced the edge of her face. ‘ _Help me_.’ I gasped to her. 

But she, shattering and broken into shards could not help me more Han she already was. And then I felt the scratching hands on me, and my marked arm was wrenched backwards. Dragging me up to my feet. I cried in alarm and shock. With my free hand I scrapped down my leg for the knife in my boot. Missed.

The Magister’s face was close enough to mine, that I could feel his hot, stale breath on my face. ‘It ends here, thief. Here we shall tear the sky asunder.’ He raised his other hand and I saw the empty orb of destruction floating above his open palm. 

_The orb, cold and grey. Unblinking_.

The heartbeat later he smacked my marked palm against it. Another heartbeat passed and nothing happened. 

With a grunt of fury, Corypheus sharply pulled my arm up, as though shaking me would help. And then threw my to the ground with enough force that my shoulder dislocated. It hung loosely at my side. I pulled the little knife from my boot and waved it in front of my, warning him to keep back. 

Corypheus laughed at me, and looked across to his open palm, from which the orb hover, and his hand grew electric. The orb crackled with crimson lightning. Till the fingerprint hollows, ran red. He pushed it towards me, hot and burning and cruel. 

Unconsciously, my marked hand exploded. Shooting pain down my arm, and it felt like my bones were dissolving. Gripping the limp limb with my other hand and aiming it towards Corypheus, I missed. Instead hitting the orb. 

As though it could sense the connection. The orb flowed green. Corypheus glanced at it with a moment of worry, and started pouring red power into it. 

Focused purely on the orb, Corypheus didn’t notice as the ground shock. He didn’t noticed as a black shadow drop towards the ground. I blinked at it, so seemingly small. Dumat’s dragon had been plucked out of the sky. I gave a last look towards the limp lizard. Then I slashed at him with my knife. He stumbled back as though baffled that I could not only hit him, but hurt him. 

The clashing red and green orb crashed to the ground and I reached for it. The moment it touched my flesh my world exploded in pain and an emerald colour that was oddly familiar. 

Through the agony, I could hear a lost voice crying to the god Dumat. Begging for more time, screaming against his death. I heard his screaming invocations. But no gods came to his rescue. He was a drowning man, desperate and gasping for more breaths that would not come. My dagger made sure of that. 

As I faded, I saw the shade of Corypheus, slipping finally from this world. I was too close, I knew I was too close. And I could hear my auntae Dirthanna’s words of advice when we camped by a fast flowing river,  _ never jump in after a drowning man, he will struggle, desperate to get air and drown you as well.  _

I clutched the orb to my chest as an explosion ripped across the sky, my vision turned bright white. My head hurt, but I had no prayers to offer. Only the dull hope that the sky would be healed through my actions, that Sil would be able to live well. _I was the White Rabbit, the sacrifice, so that the world might continue._


	182. Lethanavir

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Iseshena’s pretty sure she didn’t survive the final battle - but if she didn’t, why is there still so much to do.

I blinked, the world shifted out of focus, and I couldn’t work out where I was. My head hurt, throbbing ache behind my eyes. Being dead hurt more than I was expecting it to. ‘Falon’Din?’ I asked the shape that approached me. I tried to sit up but found my marked hand could stand no weight and I crashed back down. 

I heard a disapproving negative, and I frowned, unable to focus through the haze. Through the thousand hurts all screaming for attention. 

Golden sparks danced around me, like butterflies. It was a healing magic of some sort, a distant sleepy voice told me. Fluttering and far away. Someone warned me that pain was coming. _Solas?_ And I found myself powerless to do anything as a moment later pain sparked across my shoulder as my arm was snapped back into the socket. It hurt, but at least I could move my fingers again. 

The thought of what had just happened was enough to make me feel nauseous. I rocked back and tried to catch my breath. They edges of my vision were flickering, kaleidoscope stained glass patterned. 

I moved my hand towards my face to run at my eyes, but I found my hands already full. Blinking down it looked like any empty egg shell, hollow and cracked. I don’t remember grabbing it, but the red marks on my hand told me I’d been clutching it tightly for some time. 

‘I’m sorry,’ I whispered, holding the cracked piece of the orb out to the shape I was mostly sure was Solas. 

His slim fingers plucked it up, twisted it in front of his examining eye, and then pressed the shard back into my hand. _‘Ir abelas_.’ Whatever comforts I should have received from hearing his voice was gone as he replied in a tone that made my blood run cold. But then my head felt too heavy. And with a rush of movement, the sky fell and the world went black. 

 

‘Iseshena?’ A voice asked somewhere above me. And I felt a luxurious melting sensation spread from my neck and down my spine. Healing magic of some sort, knitting sinew and flesh back together.  With each moment my bones felt lighter, and I fidgeted in panic as I had the odd sensation that I’d float clean away. 

When I tried to move my marked hand, the voice clucked at me. ‘You dislocated your arm, it’s been strapped down, darling.’ I could move my fingers, but when I tried to move my arm, as I’d been told, it was tied to my chest. Bandages criss-crossing. 

Blinking, I was helped to sit up. And I found myself on a sleeping mat in a tented area. ‘Vivienne?’ I asked, voice groggy at best. 

She nodded, her teeth showing as she smiled, ‘yes, how are you feeling?’

The question confused me for a moment, and I tried to do a check of my limbs. Everything hurt, and something sharp was digging into my right hand, I unclenched my fist and found a piece of the orb. I hid the small shard and slipping it into my pocket. ‘Like I’ve fallen off a mountain.’

‘You did Poppy,’ Varric told me, ‘gave us quite a scare.’ I hadn’t noticed him sitting to the back, on a short stall near the tent flap. Varric paused, about to say something further. But Vivienne gave him a sharp look and he didn’t say anything further. 

There was an awkward silence, ‘did we win?’ I asked, eventually.

‘You did good,’ Varric told me, standing off his chair and came over to tap my hand reassuringly. Then he exchanged a long glance with Vivienne. Non-verbally fighting a fresh battle. ‘Corypheus is dead, as far as we can tell. The breach in the sky had been healed.’ But then he clamped his mouth shut, clearly intimidated by Vivienne.

‘And?’ I prompted. 

‘You need to rest, my dear, let us worry about it.’ The Lady of Iron said kindly to me. 

But before I could say another word the tent flap was open, and a man came bounding in. ‘Els! You're awake.’

I sighed, ‘Moe, you know you shouldn’t call me that.’ But whatever annoyance I expected to colour my tone was buried by the fatigue. 

He crinkled his nose and perched on the floor next to my cot, ‘Iseshena’s a mouthful, and I’m not calling you Inquisitor.’ 

‘One visitor at a time.’ Vivienne snapped with enough force, all three of us jumped. She glared at Moherinal in such a way that I half sure she had taken his use of my clan name as a deadly insult. 

I opened my mouth to tell Moherinal to leave, but then the words didn’t come. I couldn’t help my curiosity, why for the love of all the gods was he suddenly concerned about me. 

Varric seemed to catch my indecisiveness, and raised his hands to Vivienne, ‘I’m going, I’m going.’ 

Moherinal looked to Vivienne, ‘I can take over.’ 

She looked like she’d just been slapped, ‘I can do it, _darling_.’ The word curved in her mouth like a curse. 

If anything the Keeper looked offended, ‘Madam, please, I know you can. From reputation alone I understand you are one of the finest healers in Orlais.’

The bottom of her chin poked out, then she gave him a weak smile. ‘In Thedas, _darling_.’ Then she shook her head and extended her hands as though to say of course, please help. 

The moment that Moherinal touched his hands to my right arm, I flinched. And he gave me a tight glance. Then a lemon yellow healing spell spread from his hands. 

Vivienne inspected his work for a few minutes, and then nodded and retreated from the tent. 

‘Try to get some sleep,’ Moherinal called after her. Then had glanced across at me, ‘she’s been awake for almost two days now.’ 

I blinked at him, unable to comprehend being unconscious for that long a stretch of time. ‘You impressed Vivienne,’ I said instead, the curiosity apparent in my tone. 

He flushed, and Moherinal seemed so much younger than the man I knew him to be. ‘You told me once that I needed to listen, if I was to lead.’ But the end tilted off, uncertain, almost a question.

‘And you told me, you’d never be my Keeper.’ I replied, but there was no regret or accusation to my statement. 

He smiled, and I felt the lemon healing magics twist through my head. The colour so vivid I could almost smell citrus. ‘Lavellan’s was known for foresight.’ He said solemnly, invoking the Emerald Knight that had given our clan its name. 

‘ _Sylaise enaste_ ,’ I intoned, for habit rather than piety. 

He smirked, and then glanced around the tent. ‘They don’t want you to know,’ he started and then dropped his voice so low I could barely make out the words. ‘We’re trapped here, in a last ditch effort the Venatori collapsed tunnels into the deep roads. _Darkspawn_.’

‘What?’ I gasped, pushing up and shrugging his hands from me. The moment the healing light wasn’t illuminating my skin, I felt the lack of it. It was like I could feel bruising forming a new across every inch of my skin. At least my head at stopped pounding. 

‘Els,’ he whispered, ‘they found a mirror, thing, _elfoocian?_ There’s elvish ruins under the Temple. But Merrill can’t get it to open. Neither can that witch,’ he grabbed at my right hand. ‘Els,’ he breathed, ‘I don’t want to die here,’ I can’t, he babbled, ‘Emalein wont forgive me.’ 

 _‘Eluvian_?’ I breathed, then looked across at him, ‘Emalein?’ 

His eyes grew wide, as thought he’d revealed a secret he couldn’t have. And he gave me a nervous chuckle. 

‘I don’t want to know,’ I smiled, hands raised. 

‘You can’t leave.’ He replied, horrified as I pushed blankets aside and failed to stand on shaky legs. 

There was a chance, the slimmest of chances that this mirror would connect to Briala’s network. She’d given me the passcode on a slip of paper. And told me never to read it. And I hadn’t, until a few weeks back, when I’d drunk too much and peaked. If this worked, thank the gods that I’d peaked. I raised my eyebrows to him, and summoned up all the will that I could, ‘you said we were trapped. Get me to that _eluvian_.’ 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Name of the chapter comes from a prayer to Falon’Din;
> 
> "O Falon'Din  
> Lethanavir--Friend to the Dead  
> Guide my feet, calm my soul,  
> Lead me to my rest."
> 
> https://dragonage.fandom.com/wiki/Codex_entry:_Falon%27Din:_Friend_of_the_Dead,_the_Guide


	183. Andraste’s Needle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Iseshena survived, now they just need to get back to Skyhold.

There was a small cave, under the Ruins of the Temple of Sacred Ashes. It was almost halfway back up the mountain. Past previously spider infested places where the raw rock tried to fold in on itself like teeth, and then through a tiny corner in the rock. So subtle it was impossible to find if it’s location wasn’t already known. And as it was it took Moherinal twenty minutes to find it anyway, and that was with the echoing help of Merrill and Morrigan’s bickering to use as a guide. I heard Morrigan drawl, ‘oh yes mother.’ In a tone that could only be taken as utterly patronising. 

Merrill snapped something awful back in response. Which was followed by Marina’s uncomfortable giggles. 

Following the wall, with my fingers it appeared that the sound was coming from behind solid rock. I nudged Moherinal lightly in the ribs, the words use your staff on the tip of my tongue. 

I didn’t have to say a word, as Moherinal got the message and tapped lightly on the thick stone with his staff, causing pale silver sparks to fly into the air and the rock to peel away like orange rind. 

‘What are you doing here?’ Merrill snapped impatiently when the two of us appeared. She seemed taller than she had before, and her brilliant green eyes were faded. 

Marina to the side, slumped up against a wall, her arms crossed over her legs in a tableau of tiredness. Dark circles under her eyes and sulking, miserable expression on her face. While Morrigan for her part seems to be best in control of her temper. But still tapping her nails against her staff impatiently. 

‘Forgive us, Chosen,’ Moherinal said slowly, jumping across me to address Merrill, ‘I was simply curious to see what is required to open one.’ 

The use of Merrill’s new title made my stomach turn over, but Merrill fluffed up at the compliment, while Morrigan eyed us both suspiciously. 

‘Is it only curiosity?’ Morrigan asked, voice calm and unconsidered, ‘or did you come to tell us we were running out of time?’ 

Morrigan and I exchanged a long glance, ‘well, we are running out of time.’ I added, trying to sound as calm as possible. ‘But I am also interested to see-‘

‘Stand back,’ Merrill snapped, suddenly disinterested in our back and forth. 

Morrigan sighed, and shuffled us back with her hands, ‘tis quite a sight. They say insanity is repeating the same actions over and over, hoping for a new outcome.’ She promised smugly, and Merrill began to raise her staff high in the air. 

Deliciously complicated circles, movements, spells, threats, promises all hung in the air to no avail. At Merrill’s voice grew higher, more desperate. Just under my breath, I whispered the passcode. So quite that the breath that passed my lips barely contained a sound. Even I couldn’t hear the words that I spoke, but it seemed that the mirror could. 

Merrill let out a shriek of triumph, and Marina pulled her into an excited hug. But Merrill’s arms stayed limply at her side. I saw the look of hurt and confusion pass across Marina’s face. She stepped back awkwardly, and then sort of coughed as though to cover it. 

It was only Morrigan that seemed curious as to how her previously failed attempts had suddenly born fruit, and gave me and then Moherinal an interested glance. 

So I did not meet her eyes, and tried to brush off the Witch’s focus. Letting her come to the conclusion that Moherinal was a source of untapped ancient knowledge and wisdom. 

Instead I turned to Merrill, and found my tone suddenly serious, ‘we need to find a way through the Crossroads and get everyone back to Skyhold.’ 

‘We need to get you back first,’ Marina said, trying to cover the sting of Merrill’s rejection. 

I shook my head, ‘I’m an elf, I can help guide people through.’

‘You’re no use to anyone, you’re exhausted.’ Marina snapped firmly, as though my health was something she could control. And with a heartbreaking glance to Merrill, I realised she needed some control. 

So I accepted, ‘Moe, think you can help me find Skyhold.’

He chewed his lip, ‘I don’t know the way, I think I’d be better here.’ 

I covered my surprise, until he suggested that Morrigan take me back to Skyhold, when I openly gawped at him. Then I realised, of course he’d rather be with the Chosen of Mythal, than the Herald I’d Andraste. 

 

Morrigan and I found Skyhold again easily enough. And she even helped me lie down in the little garden, so I could rest for the moment. While she returned to the Crossroads, with metal poles and rope to create guiding paths for the mostly human forces of the Inquisition. What I thought was Morrigan coming back turned out to be the first group of soldiers to safely make it back.

They noticed me, and stopped by the patch of grass where I was, they were still bloodstained and looked about as injured as I felt. They thanked me, and I felt awkward. But then continued with their praise until I was utterly uncomfortable, I was once again unwillingly the Herald of Andraste, who had healed the sky. Then they turned from me to offer their praise at the little Chantry. It was only once they were gone that I could breathe easily again. 

Under the open sky, I gave my own shirt prayers of praise to whatever gods were still listening to me. Grateful that the sky had been healed, but oddly numb to realise that I had come back to Skyhold. It felt odd to look around the ancient stone walls and realise it was still standing. 

I knew I should find the strength to return to my quarters and burn the note that I had left before my plan was discovered. 

I groaned and sat up. ‘I need a drink,’ I announced to no one in particular. Brushing the grass off and pushing myself to me feet one handed. Suddenly on the quest to find white spirits or elfroot, whichever crossed my path first. 

I’d barely made it two steps before I came face to well, neck, of an irate Vivienne. Her mask was perfect, but the tips of her fingers tapped against her thigh, betraying her annoyance. ‘You disappeared.’ She stated.

I flushed, ‘I did.’ I replied. 

She tutted at me, and calmly say besides me, using her hand to guide more healing magics across my body. Eventually she sighed, ‘that’s the best that I can do, my dear.’ She threw her head back and laughed. ‘Josie is throwing a party, your attendance is required.’  

‘Oh goodie,’ I retorted, feeling strangely awake and lead the way back into the main hall. 

Vivienne laughed after me and dragged me off to ensure what I wore wouldn’t be an offence to her ancestors.


	184. The Threads that Dirthamen Untangles

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Iseshena finds herself in the midst of a party - but some truths cannot be kept buried.

Wearing a borrowed gown made of floaty red silk that hugged all the places that Vivienne deemed to be correct. The entire thing had been cleverly designed to make my arm in a sling part of the cut. So armoured in silks, I made my way around the large hall, to speak to all of the groups that shared our victory. 

I found Sera first, who was loudly telling anyone who would listen how horrible and disorienting the Crossroads has been for her. As though that very fact alone enshrines her belief in her own non-elfiness.  

Nearby Cassandra and Mother Giselle were exchanging theological theories about the nature of the most recent battle. And I had to pull away from Mother Giselle’s obsessive questioning about how the eluvian had answered me, in the Inquisition’s time of need. I knew her game, I knew she desperately needed me to confirm her belief that through me the Maker had spoken. And it was a pretty narrative. 

But one too close to the mundane truth, I was trying to keep hidden. So I laughed it all off, and told them that it was only through Merrill, and reluctantly through Morrigan’s efforts that the eluvian had opened and saved us all in the end. 

Luckily I was pulled away from that conversation by a kindly Bull. Who immediately regretted his actions as Dorian spent the next two glasses of wine telling me the intricate details of Maevaris’ attempt to pass the Anti-Venatori bill through the Tevinter halls of government. I barely understood a word of the technical detail, but desperately bathed in the chance to talk about anything else. 

It was only when Leliana interrupted, that Bull ushered Dorian away.

Leliana did not look like she’d just come from a battlefield, but for the traces dark circles under her eyes. ‘Most of our troops are back through the portal,’ She told me. We walked together, creating a sort of loop around the hall. 

I nodded, and smoothed the front of my dress down with my good hand, ‘that’s good.’

‘Keeper Moherinal is still shepherding the last.’ She added, and I smiled at the mismatching of his name and title. She stopped and me a curious look that I could not untangle. She tasted her words on her tongue, as she evaluated my emotions. ‘He isn’t coming back, my scouts saw him flee two days back.’ 

A rock settled in my stomach. I knew exactly who she was talking about, ‘who?’ I asked lightly. Taking a sip of too sweet wine from the glass I was gripping too tightly.

‘Solas.’ 

I nodded. ‘I never expected him to stay,’ I said, to pretend for the moment that I was in control of the situation. 

‘I realise you were close,’ she began and broke off and I turned from her. 

‘Excuse me.’ My words were a little too curt. 

There was something so dagger-sharp about knowing he was just here to recover the orb but having it throw so blatantly in my face was different. I passed the glass between my fingers as I approached the door to the rotunda. I don’t know why I expected to push open the door and find Solas there, head lowered over some old map, pen in head. A curious, but reserved glance up when I entered. 

_ It was empty, of course it was empty _ . 

I sat down carefully on the sofa that had been pushed against the wall, and folded my skirts down over my crossed legs. Then I tapped my free hand against my legs. I glanced up at the murals, like they were the receipt of his presence. 

_ He’d been real, and he’d been here _ . I told myself firmly, to dissuade the disagreeable part of my mind. I sighed, when I saw there was a final panel, half finished. He’d surely come back?  Sighing again, I set my wine glass one the floor and lay my head against the arm of the chair.  _ I was so tired _ .

 

But my head had barely touched the soft velvety fabric when the door swung open, and I sat up in a panic. For what seemed like the first time in my life, I’d been caught unprepared for Keeper Deshanna’s presence. Without a staff, there were no beads to foretell her presence. ‘Una was supposed to come of age tonight, I thought it was best if I told you myself.’ 

‘Tell me what.’ I demanded without force, the fatigue wrapped like a blanket around my words. 

‘I always expected you would figure it out,’ she said carefully, her voice unusually calm. The typical suggestion of tea, did not come. I knew I was in trouble. And her dark eyes watched me, as the Keeper perched on the edge of Solas’ desk. She spread her hands around, ‘all of the clues were there. I cannot tell if you are stupid or willingly oblivious.’ 

‘Hey!’ I recoiled from her, scowling at the ground. 

_ I do not make deals with wolves _ . Her voice echoed back to me from the last time she was in this room. . 

‘I know that he’s an agent of-‘

‘Do you really believe that he was ever happy to follow?’ Then her tone softened so slightly I was half sure I imagined it, ‘anyone that is before you?’ 

I stood up, and stared at her, my own head shaking to deny the truth she was hinting at. 

_ No one knows him like you _ , Hawen Hawen has cursed at me before he branded my face. 

I turned from her, and twisted my good hand around my marked hand.  _ He’d marked me, but then he’d been trying to save me since the moment I’d been marked _ . I could breathe, ‘it’s impossible.’ 

‘He could not leave you to suffer with the power of the orb alone,’ Deshanna told me steadily. 

_ You were heard.  _

‘Fen’Harel?’ I breathed and felt my heart drop straight out of my chest. I didn’t have to turn to see her quiet nod. The heartbeats trickled by, cruel and confusing. ‘Keeper, what should I do?’ 

‘Keeper?’ She questioned, her eyebrow raised slightly, and then sighed at my formality. ‘Are you going to go after him?’

I turned back to her, ‘how can I? Leliana doesn’t know where he’s gone.’

‘The Left Hand knows where everyone is.’ 

I barked a hollow laugh, ‘it isn’t true, and with the eluvians, he could be anywhe-‘ I broke off, and blinked rapidly. Noting strangely that Deshanna was wearing green this evening rather than her usual teal. An appeasement of sorts perhaps. 

‘Are you going to go after him, Iseshena?’ She repeated, demanding my answer. 

I looked at her for a long moment. A thousands years of warnings and horror stories rattled behind my eyes. Determined I looked up, meeting her dark eyes. ‘Yes.’ The word surprised even me slightly, my voice trembled as I found my courage. 

_ Be brave, little hare _ .

‘Keeper, I would like your blessing.’

She didn’t say another word, and looked down so she didn’t have to look at me. 

I moved around her, towards the door, then turned back and repeated, ‘I would like your blessing, but I’m not asking permission.’ My heart had somehow found its way off the floor, and was hammering in my chest. He had two days on me, but maybe I could catch up. The pieces clicked into place, pieces that had made no sense every time I’d met Briala. But now I knew exactly where he’d go. 


	185. The Maid that wasn’t a Maid

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Iseshena’s decided to go after Solas, without telling anyone. Seems like a wise plan, right?

I ran, darting through the main hall, and across to my quarters. Halfway up the stairs, I had already begun formulating a plan in my head. _To somehow get to Briala_.

Someone the night of the Ball at Halamshiral had tried to gain access to her network and failed. And I remembered the swish of skirts as the maid that wasn't a maid had taken a note from Solas. _He'd been plotting behind my back the entire time_. 

Two could play at that game, I thought furiously as I shrugged out of the red dress, keeping my left arm tucked tightly to my body. With my free hand I tore through the folded piles of clothes in my dresser. Till I found a long skirt and wrap shirt that would pass well enough. 

Struggling up the ladder to the large bed on top of the balcony, I knelt and fished out a package that Josephine had sourced for me months ago. The key piece in a plan that had fallen through when the Ball at the Winter Palace had turned so spectacularly in our favour. I pulled the borrowed knife I kept in my boot to cut the twine, and stared at the small dagger. 

It was a replacement for my own knife, the knife he had taken. _Why hadn't he let me burn it?_ It didn't make any sense. 

Trying not to think about the varying interpretations of his actions and focusing only on the present, I fished through the package until I found what I was looking for. An Orlesian royal mask.

I set the knife down, and weighed the mask in my hands. It was heavy, and gaudy, but a closer inspection would reveal the brilliant jewels to be little more than glass stuck on with paste.

In a glass shiny bead set into the cleft in the forehead I could see a tiny upside down reflection of myself. And I froze, as I found myself utterly unsure of my intentions. _Why was I going after him?_ The rational part of my mind demanded, but logical, like Solas, had fled. 

And he hadn't just fled, he'd left twice. _I owed him nothing, surely?_

He had lied to me, it told myself sharply. But then I looked down at the emerald scar on my palm. _How could I ever have thought it belonged to Andruil?_ I tightened my hand into a fist, I just need to know the truth. I told myself firmly, that was it. That was the only justification for my madness. 

I pushed my hair back from my ears, where I’d be going they could only help with the illusion that I was trying to pull off. 

So then I checked my reflect in the mirror, it wouldn’t fool anyone with a practiced eye. I knew that. It was a poor illusion to us to go up against the Master of Illusions. Even Deshanna had not approved of me going after him. _Fuck_.  

Gritting my teeth, I knew I'd be frozen to inaction if I started questioning myself. 

'Be brave, little hare.' I said aloud to myself, and set off. 

 

I hugged the walls of the main hall as I walked quickly through. Not even glancing at my celebrating friends for fear they would recognise me. I passed through the gardens and found the eluvian which was thankfully clear. Then with the gesture, learned from Morrigan, I slipped into the Crossroads. 

The smokey stink of decay hit me first, in this world between worlds. The sweet smell of rot lingered in the air. I didn't have time to discover the source of the stentch as I had to duck away from the faceless agents returning from Haven, and dart out of sight. 

Breathing heavily in the rancid air, and resting for a moment against the shattered frame of an eluvian. I tried to push down the panic that was rising in me like a tide. 

I had heard both Merrill and Morrigan describe their adventures finding their way through the Crossroads, and I realised in a heart stopping second that I might be lost. Twisting around, I couldn't find that path that had brought me to this place. I wondered if the smell of decay were the remains of the last travelers that had not treated this ancient place with the respect and awe that it required. 

Walking hurriedly and throwing glances over my shoulder to ensure that I was not being followed, I threw my hands up into the air in praise and relief when I found a still complete eluvian. I tried Morrigan's hand waving with no success, I frowned realising that I could not probe the mirror with magic as Merrill did. Instead I whispered Briala's passcode, and jumped back in shock as the mirror's surface took on a swirling blue-silver sheen. 

With a final glance around me at the graveyard of broken mirrors, I stepped through. 

 

_The gods must have been watching over me,_ I thought and then had to cover my mouth to stop my laugh echoing down the empty corridor. Somehow, I had stumbled on my first attempt back to the Winter Palace at Halamshiral. 

But as I peered into the darkness, I had a new horrible thought. _What if they were working together?_ No, I told myself, it doesn’t matter if they’re working together. I was going after the truth, and nothing else mattered. _I would hear the truth direct from the wolf’s mouth._

But without really being aware of what I was doing, I flicked an old warding gesture into the air, protection from he who I was hunting. Because, whatever he had been to me at Skyhold, I knew the stories whispered around the campfires. The legends spoken under the open sky, and the myths shared hidden under stone. The catalogue of everything I knew about him flipped open in front of me, and I knew that he would not take kindly to being Hunted. And if I did manage to catch up, he would take it even less so to being caught and trapped. Maybe once again he’d slip from my fingers like smoke. And I’d be chasing shadows for the rest of my life.

 

As I walked along the maze-like paths of Halamshiral, I wondered if I was even in the right place to find Briala. I knew that the weather had turned, Summer had faded into Autumn, but when did the Orlesian court return to the Winter Palace? Surely Vivienne had mentioned it at one stage? I tried to recall the answers as my footsteps echoed along new dark corridors.

Until I sagged against a wall, weary beyond belief that I had been unable to find my way. _I was utterly lost._ My shoulder ached, and my feet were starting to hurt. But then the wall gave way behind me and I fell backwards into a candlelit room. 

 

A shriek, followed by a harsh accusation in the fluid Orlesian tongue that I couldn't translate. I was uselessly sprawled on the floor, clutching at my hurt shoulder that had been jarred in the fall. But then I realised that the object of my hunt proud and half-dressed, was towering over me. 

‘You’ve made a mistake, barging in here,’ Briala told me steadily, switching to Trade when I'd showed no signs of understanding Orlesian. Her unmasked face taut and foreboding.

I tried to sit up and found a cold knife at my throat. Trying to keep calm against the metal that dug into my neck. I reached back to steady myself and found flesh. Someone was crouched behind me. I struggled to catch a breath. 

‘Wait,’ Briala snapped suddenly, and reached for my mask. She glanced behind her with a cold look in her eyes, 'The mask is a fake, who do you work for?’ She snapped the mask off with a flourish that took a clump of my hair with it, her face twisted in confusion. ‘ _'Ellana_?’ She asked, my old name becoming heavily accented by her lips. 

The knife disappeared from my throat and I glanced back to see none other than the Empress of Orlais panting hard and glaring at me. Wearing nothing but under garments. She studiied the little blade in her hand and stuck it back into her sleeve. She flicked me a look as though she wasn’t even slightly remorseful for trying to kill me. 

‘Yes, well, no. I’m Iseshena now, not Hellana. But I need to speak with you.’ I said, rubbing my unmarked hand under my eyes. 

With as much dignity as one could wearing a crumpled shift that was hanging off her shoulder, the Empress settled on a small vanity stall as though it was a throne. ‘First, you understand that you’re not to speak of what you just witnessed.’ 

I blinked at her, not quite understanding, ‘what I’ve witnessed? Empress?’ 

She gave me a patient little smile, ‘What the Marquis and I discuss is, of course, of great intrigue to the Court and it would-‘

I nodded and she stopped her explanation. ‘I understand,’ _I don't care,_ I had to stop myself from saying. _We had bigger problems,_  then I glanced to Briala, ‘I need to speak with you.’ 

Her eyebrow raised and she flicked a glance towards the Empress, ‘and you assumed I’d be here?’

‘Actually, I didn’t mean to fall through the door.’ I explained, and rubbed the back of my head as though illustrating that I was simply an unwelcome house-guest rather than anything else.

The corner of the Empress’ lip twitched up, ‘a fortuitous accident.’ She stood, and passed a knowing look to Briala. ‘Goodnight then.’ 

Briala watched her go, and when she turned back to me, the mask I’d been wearing was still in her hands. I saw her consider it and then lay it gently on the side of the bed. ‘Inquisitor?’

‘It’s about your network.’ 

She glanced up slowly, and she sighed. ‘Now you want it?’

I blinked, ‘actually,’ I considered my next words carefully, wondering how much I should reveal, ‘I think that someone else is after it.’ 


	186. Roamer of the Beyond

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Iseshena finds it difficult to tell Briala the truth. If admitting the things that she has discovered to herself was difficult, admitting them to Briala is worse. And Iseshena is sure she knows what Solas is going to do, and when an expected visitor comes knocking, she'll be prepared.

I blinked, ‘actually,’ I considered my next words carefully, wondering how much I should reveal, ‘I think that someone else is after your network.’ 

Briala stopped, and strode from my towards the corner of the bed and pulled lightly on a little cord, before she glanced back to me. ‘Coffee?’ 

The question blindsided me, the panic bubbling under my skin froze in horror. ‘What?’ I muttered. 

‘Iseshena?’ She teased the new name, and when I nodded she continued, ‘it’s past midnight, would you like some coffee?’ 

Closing my eyes and running a nervous hand along my marked arm, ‘yes, perhaps that is best.’ I agreed as I realised she was trying to calm me. 

She offered me a little seat, and bent to stoke the dying embers in the fireplace back to life, then she turned to me from her crouched position, ‘did the Dalish take your _vallaslin_ too?’

‘No,’ I paused, the truth stuck to my tongue as sharply as if I had licked freezing metal. Glancing at the fire, the licking flames of Sylaise, I searched for a different truth. But wasn’t that exactly what Solas had done to me in the cave in Crestwood. Returning my face to Briala’s gaze, I summoned my courage, and realised I had been avoiding the name. I hadn’t spoken it aloud or even thought it since I found the truth. I have have to at some point, might as well be now, ‘ _Fen'Harel_ took them.’ The name lingered in the air, and I could have sworn the shadows grew longer. 

From the expression that twisted on her face, that was the last thing she had expected me to say, ‘what?’ she spluttered, her usual pristine mask crashing on the floor, ‘you’ve met him?’ she demanded, her voice a torn mix of fear, excitement and awe. She stood and pace away, her hands coming to her mouth and then she returned to me. She opened her mouth to speak, but there was a knock at the door. Fluidly, she recovered, passing my own mask back to me and returning hers to her face. 

The mask hung like blinkers around my eyes, and I fought to breathe under the claustrophobic paper mache. 

The maid that Briala had called shuffled into the room, her eyes down and gently placed a large silver kettle down, with two delicate porcelain cups. She whispered something barely audible to Briala, who replied with a curt, ‘ _non, merci_.’ And waved her maid away. 

Once the door closed with a snap, and a couple of heartbeats had passed, I pulled the mask back off. Running my finger over the glass beads, until one of them snaps off in my hand. I glance up and place the whole thing down on the ground beside my chair. 

Briala pours the steaming coffee, and hands me a cup. I breath in the steam, bitter and rich all at the same time. It am quite sure it is against one rule of etiquette or another, but I wrap my hands around the bottom of the cup, warming them. 

She sits, and removes her own mask. Waiting for my explanation. 

Chewing over my words before I say them, I wonder what I can say that will make her believe me. I swallow hard and look up, ‘did you ever meet Solas?’ 

Her head tilts just slightly to the left, confusion about this sudden change of topic, ‘Solas?’

I frowned, and glanced down at the cup in my hands, watching the white steam trail up into the air, ‘he was at the palace, the night of the ball.’

‘With the hat?’ She cleared her throat, ‘you enjoyed the library?’

I flushed, the cup in my hands suddenly too hot, as redhot welts of shame and regret and something else I didn’t even want to name flared across my skin. ‘Sorry about that.’

Briala gave me a bored look as she sipped her coffee. As though every passing dignitary got up to all manor of unspeakable acts in the palace. It didn’t make me feel any better. ‘What does he have to do with-‘

‘He’s Fen’Harel.’ 

The next silence was deafening. I have expected her to laugh in my face, or walk away or bombard me with a million questions. Instead she sighed and placed the cup down resigned on the table next to her. ‘I was once told to never to tell the passcode to anyone, but I gave it to you.’ 

‘It saved my life.’ I acknowledge quickly, ‘and the lives of my army.’

Her icy gaze scrutinised me, ‘I assume you are here to have me relinquish it? Why go to the effort, why have you not given him the passcode?

My fingers twisted together, in my lap. ‘He doesn’t know that I know.’ 

That surprised her, eyebrows up just the slightest of fractions. Then she looked past me, and I could see her mind exploring all of the options, the gears clicking behind her eyes into place. 

‘Do you think he can be bargained with?’ Briala asked softly. 

‘My Mother tells me to never make deals with Wolves, they will always take more than you can give.’ My words came unbidden, thoughtless and bitter. What hadn’t he taken from me? My _vallaslin,_ my _vhenan?_ But he had been trying to protect me, he had stayed once I was marked to try to save my life, he’d taken my _vallaslin_ in an attempt to free me from bonds I’d never realised chained me. I had watched him play invisible chess, I knew how his mind worked. He saw his goal, get the passcode, and he would see two routes there. Through the fade, where things would be easier, I sighed, ‘from what I know of him, he could take the passcode, steal it from our dreaming minds. But,’ _he’d never been a thief_. He followed through on his promises, and was honourable in his own way. I glanced away, the blush staining my cheek as I revealed our intimate relationship. ‘I suspect that he will come in person. There is a chance for negotiation.’ 

 _There is no one else in the world who knows him like you,_ Hawen Hawen had told me and it was time to put that to the test. 

There was a knock at the door, Briala flinched and her mask was back on her face again. But she didn’t wait for me to bother with my own mask. 

The door clicked open and a short _shem_ man with a half-face mask appeared. His mouth was pinched together in obvious distaste, without even a glance at me he came to stand before Briala. 

With his back to me, the man bowed to her, clicking his heels together as he did so. An embroidered Dalish archway was stitched into the fabric of his tunic and I realised that he was wearing the livery of the Marquise of the Dales. 

Their exchange was brief and in a rapid Orlesian that I didn’t have a hope of following. 

I sat back in my chair, and watched the fire flickered gently. The man snapped his heels again and took a few paces back. Head bowed. 

‘You were right,’ Briala said quickly calmly, ‘Stephan tells me there is a,’ she turned and gave him a slight smile as she quoted directly, ‘ _scruffy hedge-mage_ asking to see me.’ 

My breath caught in my throat all at one. _Fuck._ I stood, the instinct to flee overwhelming my better sense. 

‘Inquisitor?’ Briala’s voice was strained, as she watched me run my hands through my hair. ‘If you’re working together, I would prefer to know now.’ She’d misinterpreted my nervousness as fear of being caught.

I twisted, still breathing hard, ‘he doesn’t know I’m here.’ 

Briala snapped a command in Orlesian to her man, who swept away back through the door. ‘There seems to be a lot that he doesn’t know. Well I’d better meet my guest then.’ She gave me a look that I could not interpret, I didn't know if she believed me or was humouring me. She stood, and brushed her skirts down, before striding over to the bed and pulling on a sapphire blue robe de chambre. She tied a knot at her waist with a snap and turned to face the door.


End file.
